La petite seconde d’éternité
by L'histoire
Summary: [The Little Second of Eternity] Postseries. International intrigue! Romance! A healthy dose of French poetry! What happens after the Mainland implodes? RyuXMim. Some strong language & lemons, rated M for a reason.
1. Prologue: Le jardin

Author note: I've dispensed with some aspects of canon, which will be immediately obvious to anyone who's seen the last few episodes of Scryed. I don't really feel the need to justify this, beyond the fact that this story started as a few mere pages and morphed into more & I didn't feel like dealing with some issues when I started writing it. So I don't want to get any e-mails about how I changed X, Y, or Z. I'm well aware of it, and don't need to hear about it.

As way of explanation, this story contains snippets of French poetry and similar things – this springs from literature I have been reading as I wrote this, as well as the fact that I've functioned on the assumption that Ryuho & Mimori would receive a "classical" education as the upper classes of many countries are wont to do. This generally includes things like French. Hence, I've written parts of this with that sort of assumed knowledge implied on the parts of Ryuho & Mimori, though of course, it's never talked about in the show or manga. All chapter titles (and the story title) are taken from Jacques Prévert's _Paroles_ – I have translated everything I remembered to, or left notes at the bottom. If you're confused, let me know.

Disclaimer: I don't own Scryed, its characters, etc. etc. ad infinitum

_The Garden_

Pain. Unimaginable pain, everywhere, deep in his bones, his heart. Ryuho Tairen felt like he couldn't breathe as he swam up from the depths of darkness, gasping for air – it was killing him, but some instinct knew that if he didn't press forward, he _would_ die. But the images – Jesus, the images, the people – he was floundering around and couldn't stop the march of people, the flashbacks, every single fucked-up thing that had happened in the past year. No, it was _years_ of fuck ups, his, mostly - and this dark graveyard of memories threw it all in his face. Scheris, Cougar, various members of HOLD and HOLY – _How you've worried us, Ryuho; see where hubris gets you? _Kazuma stood before him, defiant even in a weakened state, laughing – could this really be? Could Kazuma have killed him? Is that what this world was, moving towards the other side? Heaven or hell? _Hell_,_ you idiot_ a voice chided. So much effort wasted … so much pain. For what? Honor, duty, revenge?

The coldness, the hardness that he covered up the past few years of his life with was slipping away, and if Ryuho had felt that he could slump down and cry, he would have – but he had no control of his limbs, and he was being borne passively through this sea of misery, powerless to stop it or even reach out for this parade of people. A small figure came into view, a woman – she lifted her head, and Ryuho melted as soon as he saw the big brown eyes that he had loved for … years. _Years_. In his heart of hearts, the thing he never admitted to anyone, not even really himself – this beautiful girl, the One.

_Mimori._ Always Mimori, had it ever been anyone else? So beautiful, so blindingly brilliant, so … _forgiving_. Idealistic, naïve? _Well, yes_, Ryuho mused, _in a way_. She smiled at him – _why did she still smile? After all that's happened since she came? _– and his heart lifted, the pain dissipated, and he tried to reach out for her. _Mimori!_ he called out, wanting to beg forgiveness for everything that had happened before, every slight, every time she had lain in bed and stared at the ceiling wondering why she had ever come from her comfortable life on the Mainland to find someone so undeserving. But she was fading, looking at him, reaching out a hand and begging him to save her from the enveloping darkness – _just this once_, the little voice in his head commanded, _do something right, do right by her_ – and he couldn't move. And Mimori began to cry as the darkness swallowed her, and Ryuho could do nothing, not even call for her; the pain redoubled and everything went pitch black, darker than before.

----

Scheris Adjani watched Ryuho thrashing about on the makeshift hospital bed, trying to decide if this was a good thing or a sign that he was going downhill suddenly. Cupping her chin in her palm, she watched intently from the uncomfortable plastic chair where she'd stood guard since Ryuho and Kazuma had been brought in from their battle, after nearly killing each other and totally exhausting themselves in the process – _stupid! Truly idiotic! _she seethed inwardly. _What good is a Pyrrhic victory? Men!_ She had healed Ryuho with her Eternal Devote after the gigantic battle, but this – well, the diagnosis was that Ryuho would just have to work out of it himself. His body was keeping him in a state of restless sleep to aid in healing, and there was nothing Scheris or anyone else could do but watch.

"What do you suppose he's thinking about? I don't think I've ever seen the ice prince so … _animated_" – Scheris turned in surprise to look at Straight Cougar, who never had time to slow down, much less _pause_ in a sentence. "I don't know," she said, more than a little thoughtfully, "I have to wonder if this is a good sign or not-" "NowayisHEgoingtodiethateasily. ScherisyoushouldKNOWthatbynow"

Scheris arched an eyebrow and brushed her blue bangs out of her face. "Well, I hope you're right. We have a lot of work to do now that … well, now that everything's over – for the moment – and I think things would be easier if he were around for it." _Ryuho_, she sighed inwardly. _Why are you _such_ an idiot sometimes? For someone who can be downright frigid, you damn well show a lot of emotion over Kazuma, and look where it's gotten you_.

-

Cougar leaned up against the wall of the little room, listening to the bustle going on outside (_And why is it that I'm standing still? MEofallpeople!_). It had been a busy week – on top of everything _else_, the "final fight" over, Kazuma and Ryuho trying to kill each other in a spectacular display of over-active testosterone-fueled pride – well, even Cougar, he of Radical Good Speed, had to take a breather. He looked out the window to the rolling hills surrounding the house, far away from the City. The sun was setting and washing the landscape in colors of orange and gold, and the first stars were beginning to shine. Cougar smiled at the thought of the stars – rather, the one he knew would be laying on the other side of the hill before him as soon as the sun had set, the girl who would lay down and stretch out and star gaze for hours. No matter how many times Mimori Kiryu saw brilliant, star-filled nights, she never got tired of watching and looking for hours and hours ("Cougar," she had once said, a little breathless from the wonder of it all, "how can you _not_ be amazed? The sky is _full_ of stars – it's so clear! Just look at them!").

His brief reverie – ever so brief, even for Straight Cougar – was broken when Ryuho drew a huge, gasping, shuddering breath. Scheris leapt up, and Cougar leaned in to see if Ryuho (_who, truth be told, would make mylifeSOmucheasierifhewouldjustdie_ … _but_ …) was going to be all right, or if this was the death rattle screaming in his chest.

Two ruby eyes, shocked as either Scherise or Cougar had ever seen them, stared back at them.

----

Mimori settled down on the hillside, leaning back and letting the tensions of the day melt away. Running her fingers through the grass, she kept her eyes trained on the sky, willing the day to fade and for the night to come out in full force. How Cougar had gotten them to this house – a lovely house, in such a beautiful setting – on such short notice was beyond her. How the hodge-podge of ex-HOLY members and native alters had managed not to slaughter each other at this point was also completely beyond her comprehension. Of course, relations had been shifting since before the defeat of Kyoji Mujo, new bonds were forged, new allies made. Still, years of strife couldn't be covered over so quickly, no matter how full of good intentions everyone was. _Well, one must do what one must in situations like these_, she thought.

The past few weeks had been busy. More than busy - frantic, frenetic. Mimori searched her brain for more adjectives to describe all that had happened, but even with her genius, she was at a complete loss. Certainly, it had been astonishingly easy – _not _easy_, stupid girl_, she corrected herself, _easierthanEXPECTED_ – and over in what seemed now, when there was time to think, the blink of an eye. She sat up and hugged her knees, resting her chin and gazing thoughtfully down to a little creek that ran in the crevice of two hills. And then Ryuho and Kazuma had to go and try to kill each other, trying to prove once and for all who was the strongest – like it _really_ mattered. Kazuma had been the "winner," although anyone who passed out cold for days after a victory wasn't entirely victorious (Kazuma, Mimori thought with a wry smile, would strenuously disagree, she was sure). And Ryuho …

_Ryuho_. She inhaled sharply, nuzzling her nose into the fabric of her jeans. It hurt to look at his battered body. Mimori could barely stand look at him; certainly, she couldn't do as loyal Scheris and sit at his bedside. The most Mimori could stand was to lean up against the door frame of the little room-cum-Ryuho's hospital ward and watch him at night, long after everyone else was sleeping and while the house was deathly still and full of dark and shadows. Oh, how she'd willed for him to just open his eyes at some point in the hours she had watched him, watched his chest rise and fall rhythmically, listening to his unintelligible murmurs!

If she'd been listening at that particular moment, she would have heard Ryuho's roar – the icy façade finally dropped – and the crash of a door being flung open, the pleading voices of everyone in the house asking Ryuho to stay inside, go back to bed, worry about healing his wounded body. But Mimori was deep in thought, looking up to the sky again, fingering the heavy pendent that rested on her chest, the tiniest of smiles playing at the corners of her mouth. Things had been touch and go for a day or two, but Ryuho wouldn't die – at least, she didn't think so anymore. _What then_? a nagging voice asked at the back of her head. _Will it be any different than before_? Mimori shushed it, shaking her raven locks to banish it to wherever it came from. Not that she had an answer, but there was nothing to do but look forward. The past was the past. HOLD was gone, the Mainland had backed off (_Not that it will last long_, she admitted), the arduous process of rebuilding would soon begin. Ryuho … well, _that_ whole situation would sort itself out eventually, one way or another.

Mimori had been musing to herself for an hour when she gradually became aware that someone was watching her. Thinking it would be Cougar or Kazuma or Kanami (or even maybe Scheris – the two women had a hard time getting along, waging a quiet battle over Ryuho's affections, as if he had feelings to waste on something as silly as _women_ - but something subtle had shifted in the relationship recently), she stood up and dusted herself off, turning with a wide smile on her face, ready to call out a greeting. Her voice hitched in her throat when she saw the ruby eyes fixed on her, and she could do nothing but stand silently on the hillside, mouth agape, hand tightly clutching the heavy crystal pendant.


	2. Des milliers et des milliers d'années

Insert standard 'I don't own it' disclaimer here

_Thousands and thousands of years_

Scheris collapsed against the wall of the kitchen, rubbing a hand over her face.

"WhatintheFUCKjusthappened?" blustered Cougar, storming around the kitchen. "WhatintheFUCK? FuckingRyuhoIsweartogodKazumashould'vekilledhimwhen-"

"Cougar, calm _down_," Scheris demanded, irritated, forgetting her hysterics mere minutes earlier. "Ryuho's _not_ dead, and while I haven't the faintest idea _what_ the hell is wrong with him – what am I saying, he's _sick_! I don't think it's unheard of, sick people getting hysterical."

"Look, hysteria, delusional rambling, whatever – who knows. I don't see Kazuma flying off the handle," Cougar nodded over his shoulder to Kazuma, who was stretched out on the couch, flipping through TV channels, "And the two idiots were both out cold for days after that fight. Maybe Ryuho's finally gone around the bend, god knows anyone who keeps everything bottled up like that for so long is bound to have some psychological disturbances … _whatever_.I think the more important thing is to ask where in the fuck Ryuho was going in such a damn hurry." Cougar narrowed his eyes, looking out the window. He knew who was over on the other side of the hill and had a damn good idea where Ryuho had stormed off. The question was why?

----

Ryuho leaned against the tree for what seemed like half a lifetime, watching Mimori silently. He sighed and put a hand to his head, rubbing his temples, replaying in his head everything that had just happened.

He'd had the shock of a lifetime when he awoke to Scheris and Cougar looking expectantly at him. He had sat up suddenly, crying out in pain when he felt the twinge of his ribs and the bandages straining against his bruised and tender skin. _This seems awfully painful for the after life_. The room was quiet, save the sound of three ex-members of HOLY breathing in unison. "Am I dead?" he asked a bit wondrously, holding out a hand and flexing it, watching the tendons and muscles and bones working together. _This … this couldn't possibly be the afterlife. _

"Ryuho!" Scheris cried. "You're - " "You idiot, of course you're not dead. Fuck, I know Kazuma gave you a whipping, but did he turn that damn brain of yours into mush while he was at it?" Cougar said with a laugh. " Shit, look at you. You're a bloody mess. I hope to god that they'd at least clean you up before letting you over to the other side." Ryuho looked down, noting the clean bandages and dressings, looking at them seriously for the first time. _Of course, Cougar is right_, he thought. Still … those dreams, his life sliding by in slow motion.

Ryuho swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing in pain as his feet settled on the floor (_Is it _possible_ to be this sore all over?_). "Ryuho, don't you dare get up," Scheris said warningly. He looked up at her with fiery eyes. Cougar rejoiced inwardly – Ryuho's lack of emotion always bothered him. _It'sjustnotNATURALforpeopletobethatcold_. Even when Ryuho was being "emotional," it barely registered as readable. Scheris set her lips in a scowl – she adored Ryuho more than life, she owed him her life in some sense, after all, and she wasn't about to see him raging around long before his body had begun to heal.

Ryuho stood up, immediately putting a hand to his head as dizziness overtook him; he took a few staggering steps before leaning against the wall. "Looks like the little lady was right, and you should get back in bed, before you fall over and conk your head again. It'd be a damn shame to survive that fight with Kazuma and succumb to a head wound from a floor," Cougar said with a wide grin. Scheris looked like she was ready to scream (or cry … or both) and she reached over to put a steadying hand on Ryuho's arm. His head whipped in her direction her and after seeing the look on his face, she backed off a little.

Rage was bubbling inside Ryuho – his body was a mass of aching pains, dull throbbing, and the occasionally blinding sharp sensation in his side if he breathed a little too deeply; his mind was racing, his dreams racing through his head with too much vividness, too sharp and clear. The ramifications of his past few years of isolation and frosty demeanor were becoming clear, to say nothing of his association with HOLD and HOLY, and the more he thought about it, the more enraged at himself he became. He'd thought of it a thousand times before, but now – _now_ it was all bubbling to the surface. _Idiot!_ his mind screamed at him. _Couldn't even see the writing on the wall!_ Ryuho couldn't have told anyone why he was beating himself up over past actions _now_ – months after he had left HOLY, the hard edge of his demeanor softened. But his mind was raging, wondering how his life had gotten into such a state where he could treat people like he treated …. A thought forced its way to the front of his brain and nearly made his heart stop.

_Mimori. Must see Mimori. NOW_. Something in his brain had clicked. _To hell with appearances_ he thought to himself, he had to see her. Clothes – not his, but they looked like they would fit – were draped over the end of the bed, and Ryuho fumbled with them, trying to force his recalcitrant limbs into cooperate. Muscles screamed in pain and even his bones ached for the effort, but Ryuho's actions were becoming frantic. Scheris and Cougar tried to reason with him, but he was having none of it.

As he fumbled with his boots and tried to stagger out the door, Cougar stepped in front of the door. "No way in hell you're leaving, buddy – you're in no condition to be ambling, much less _storming_ around. Fuck, man, do you even know where you're _going_?" Ryuho bit down on the rage that was welling up inside him – _where in the fuck is this coming from?_ – and tried to shove past Cougar. When that failed, he drew back as if he was about to use his alter, and Cougar hastily stepped out of the way. _No way in hell do I want to tangle with this crazy bastard right now – he wants to go stagger out to die, let him!_ Scheris glared at Cougar, stepped forward to restrain Ryuho and got a door flung in her face for the trouble.

----

"Ryuho! RYUHO! WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING?" Scheris shrieked. Kazuma gingerly stood up from the couch where he had been camped out, eyes wide at the sight of his rival staggering down the hall in a blind rage. "Is that … what in the hell is going on?" Kazuma said with more than a note of incredulity in his voice. _Damn, I gave that fucker quite the beating_, he thought (wincing inwardly as he felt the pangs of the beating that Ryuho had given _him_), _and he's already running around like a damn fool?_

Ryuho, keeping a hand on the wall for support, stormed down the hallway as fast as his battered body would let him. "Yo, dude, seriously, what's the hurry? You're fucked up – go back to bed for another few days," Kazuma tried to reason with him. Ryuho stared at him, waving his hand dismissively. "Right, you _won_. Beat the fuck out of me. Nearly killed me, I get it. At this moment, I don't really give a flying fuck. As far as I'm concerned, it's fucking _over_," Ryuho raged. Kazuma grinned: _That was easy._

They were rivals, yes – but Kazuma was secure in the knowledge that he had triumphed. After he had woken up with the headache of a lifetime, having been out cold for three days, Mimori had begged him to give up the whole thing, "Kazuma, I _know_ how you and Ryuho are, but you _won_. Please, for the love of all that is holy -" she gasped and put a hand to her mouth at the unintentional entendre, and after regaining her composure, she continued: " _Please_ give it up. You two have wasted too much energy fighting each other for … for no good reason, and I'm afraid we're going to have to channel all that energy into something a hell of a lot more important and productive. Besides, you two are more alike than you realize, and dare I say, might actually grow to like each other over the next few decades if you don't kill each other first." Kazuma had looked into her eyes – so kind, so earnest, so _intelligent_ – and knew somewhere, deep down, that she was right. Ryuho wasn't a threat anymore, and Kazuma's pride had been soothed - he had proved his dominance over that bastard, or at least won the most important fight. He looked up at Kanami and saw her concerned expression, which turned to relief when he agreed. He vigorously emphasized that it wasn't for Ryuho's sake, but for Kanami's and Mimori's. He was genuinely fond of Mimori, and still hadn't figured out why she put up with Ryuho after the way he'd treated her for so long, but he could see her point that now was not the time to be fighting aimless battles purely for … for the sake of fighting. And then Kanami … well, she was a different matter all together. Kazuma was snapped out of his thoughts by an angry growl from Ryuho – who was apparently growing more infuriated with the protestations of Scheris and Cougar.

Kanami Yuta, Kazuma's ever-present (and ever productive) young companion, was plastered against the refrigerator door as Ryuho stumbled past, watching the whole scene with wide eyes. "Ryuho, where are you _going_?" Scheris cried plaintively, as Cougar tried to wrestle Ryuho back without hurting him further. Ryuho was obviously intent on scrambling out the back door, and a well-placed (if weak) kick applied to Cougar left Ryuho free to escape. Scheris was nearly hysterical, pleading with Ryuho to come back and to _stop getting so damn excited_, _it was only going to make everything worse!_ Kazuma was shaking his head trying to figure out what i was happening – _Good thing everyone else is out and not here to see this_ – as Scheris screamed at him to _do something_. Kazuma shrugged and gave a sheepish smile. _Not like I'm in much better shape_.

Ryuho finally snapped – really snapped, or so it seemed to the onlookers who had never seen much of Ryuho's emotions other than anger in the heat of battle or a steely cold demeanor the rest of the time. With a tone and timbre that Kazuma had never heard, not even during battle, Ryuho roared "_SCHERIS. Shut. The. Fuck. Up."_ He threw the back door open, slamming it into the pantry with a loud bang, and sent a murderous look to Scheris. Cougar was leaning up against the fridge near Kanami, a bemused smirk flitting across his face. They could do nothing but watch as Ryuho blustered up the hill - into the night and out of view.

----

Mimori wasn't sure what to do or say. So she did the only thing she felt capable of, which was stare. Ryuho was bandaged and bruised, standing not twenty feet from her, arms crossed. Head held high, jaw set, eyes piercing her – those ruby eyes, so hard and … angry? _He couldn't _possibly_ be angry with me_, Mimori reasoned. _It's not like I was hovering over him when he woke up_. _Then again, he's never needed a reason before …_ He looked so different. It wasn't just that he was battered, his slim and elegant HOLY uniform was gone, destroyed, so he was wearing strange clothes – _Well, strange for Ryuho … are they Kazuma's_? – work boots, unlaced, obviously put on in haste (the idea of Ryuho not taking the time to lace his boots was somewhat baffling for Mimori); well-worn jeans, a black sleeveless shirt that showed his lean and well-muscled upper body. She blushed thinking of all the nights she'd dreamed of that body. Dreamed of Ryuho actually loving her – all those years of dreams, years of waking up in a dead sweat, unable to fall back asleep. Mimori stepped over to a tree near her, to lean against it, never taking her eyes of Ryuho. She felt like her knees were about to go out: _what could he possibly want_? She had no way of knowing that the four people inside the temporary hospital-hotel-base of operations were also waiting with bated breath, waiting for another explosion.

-

Ryuho didn't explode. He gave a huge sigh and let his shoulders sag, uncrossed his arms and ran his hand through his forest-green hair, wincing at the twinge in his shoulder. He looked at Mimori, who suddenly seemed so small and frightened – _You were expecting what, asshole? That she'd be squealing with joy? Fuck. You've _really_ screwed this one up_. _You can't erase the past with a few weeks of … of tolerable behavior_. Ryuho wanted to beat himself for every past transgression, every time he had ever been mean to her. _Hey, you did it to keep her safe_ a little voice said. Ryuho growled at it. Gingerly, he made his way down the hill, fixing his gaze at the horizon above Mimori's head, because he hadn't the heart to look her in the eye as he approached.

-

Mimori watched him, trying desperately to read his expression. She tried to speak, but her throat closed up and words failed her; she snaked her arm around the trunk of the tree and pressed her body into it, praying that her legs didn't give way. Her chest tightened as he approached, when he got so close that she could smell the blood on his bandages, his sweat. She looked up at him, those ruby eyes looking down at her, blank – _no,_ she thought, her heart pounding, _not blank, but …_


	3. Ne sauraient suffire Pour dire

Still don't own Scryed.

_Would not suffice/To tell of_

Kanami ladled out the stew she'd made for dinner into four bowls, knowing that it would be a while before Mimori returned with Ryuho in tow.

"Ryuho-san would never hurt her, Cougar-san. Really." The girl looked up at Cougar with earnest eyes, knowing – just as everyone else did, but even more so – that while Ryuho had hurt Mimori _deeply _in the past, he would never, _ever_ raise a hand against her.

"That's all well and good, kid, but you saw Ryuho storm out of here," Cougar said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. "Hell, _you_ were plastered against the refrigerator when he came blowing through." _IfhelaysahandonherI'llfuckingKILLhimIdon'tcareifheIShurt_. Scheris sighed, a pang in her heart. _Mimori_. She shoved a spoonful of stew into her mouth so she could bite her tongue. "Cougar, you know damn well Kanami's right," Kazuma said as he sidled into the kitchen, his nose twitching at the smell of the fresh stew. "Look, man," he said while he rummaged for pepper, "I don't get the fascination any more than you do. Shit, I'd love to give that pompous ass another whipping for how he's treated Mimori, among other things . . . ." Kazuma glanced over at Scheris, who was looking more downcast by the moment, and looked back to Cougar. "But Ryuho would never physically hurt her. It's a non-issue, no matter _how_ angry he is."

Cougar shoved his glasses on top of his head. "Well, whatever. I'm _still_ going out to check on those two . . . _andIWILLkillhimifIseesomethingIdon'tlike - _" "Cougar," Scheris piped up, in a shockingly even tone, "Don't. Just. Don't. You'll just piss him off more." She leaned back against the wall, knowing deep down that it was Mimori, it had _always_ been Mimori. Despite everything … She rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "Fuck, Scheris. You have _got_ to be kidding me. You can't tell me that you want Ryu -" Scheris' eyes narrowed dangerously. Cougar bit his tongue for once in the interest of self-preservation, but moved towards the door.

Kanami, wise beyond her years, always so even-tempered in a house full of hot heads, looked at Cougar with her big eyes. "No, Cougar-san – please, don't. They'll be back tonight. But please don't. Mimori-chan will be fine, and she'll be angry if you spy on them." Cougar's eyes narrowed at the slip of a girl, but he knew she was right – assuming Mimori even _noticed_ his presence, which Cougar was fast becoming concerned would not be the case. Snatching a bowl of stew, he slammed back against the pantry. Brooding silence filled the room, oppressive in its heaviness.

----

Ryuho swayed slightly as he stood looking down at Mimori, not entirely trusting his broken body to hold him up. He allowed himself time to feel how close they were to each other, nearly touching – time to take in her scent. Caught the flash of the crystal pendant, still amazed that she had kept it all these years. He gave himself time to think of all those moments at HOLD that he'd wanted to reach out for her, grab her wrist, make her smile – to turn the clock back just a few years, when everything seemed so much easier. And what had he done instead? Told her to go home (_for her own good … _Ryuho growled again at his astonishing stupidity), told her that he felt _nothing_ for her – oh god, he could laugh. Nothing. And he was so cool and calm and withdrawn that she believed it, at least part of her. When all he wanted was to keep her desperately close – but to keep her close was to lose her … but had he lost her by driving her away? He knew that Cougar loved her, and perhaps Mimori loved him. After all, Cougar made her laugh and was sweet to her and usually came to save the day. And Cougar adored her and _acted like it_. Had been acting like it. It had taken amnesia for Ryuho to even _warm up_ to Mimori again. _Idiot!_

It was all he could do not to pull her up roughly into his arms, where he was sure she belonged. Instead, Ryuho Tairen – proud heir to one of the biggest fortunes of the Lost Grounds, former star member of HOLY - dropped to his knees in front of her, staring at Mimori's feet. Everything seemed to slow down as the ruby eyes focused on each foot, looking at the laces on each shoe. He tried to speak, but his voice caught, and he choked on the words, not for lack of wanting to say them.

---

Mimori was staring down at the forest-green hair she knew so well, her heart in her throat. "Ryu … Ryuho?" she asked tentatively. _Is he sick? Well, of course he's _sick_, but has something overtaken him? _Mimori looked up at the ridge of the hill in a panic, waiting to see Cougar or Scheris cresting the hill. Scheris would be hysterical and blaming Mimori, Cougar would be angry, and Mimori felt a sob welling up in her throat at the very thought. _Why tonight? Why after this terrible week? What in the world was going on?_

"Ryuho?" Mimori prodded again. "Are you all right? Are you sick? What are you doing out of bed?" He looked up at her, holding her gaze for the first time, and Mimori was taken aback at the flood of feelings that were swirling in his ruby gaze. Oh, she had seen flashes of emotion occasionally – rarely – but for the first time since she had arrived at HOLD, she saw that shy boy, so sensitive, that she had fallen in love with a lifetime ago. "I'm no sicker than I was when I came out here. It's just that I … I …" Ryuho croaked out, the effort of speaking such words etched clearly on his face.

"Ryuho, please stop, get up!" Mimori begged, trying to keep the panic and the tears stuffed down, deep inside. She didn't know what to do, having the object of her adoration literally at her feet, ill as he was. He couldn't have woken up that long ago, and here he was, kneeling before her. Some gesture pulled at Mimori's mind, some long-forgotten ritual … penance? Some picture she had seen years ago, in her meteoric rise through school. Religion. Prostrating one's self to ask forgiveness. "Ryuho, please." Her voice was pleading, asking him to get up before she burst into tears, because really, this was the last thing she could take right now. She was too tired, spread too thin. She couldn't deal with this, too.

"I … I was dying. I was dying back there," he said, looking up at her again, but she couldn't look him in the eye. "And I saw you. I saw a lot of people, but you – you were the last one, Mimori. And after _everything _that's happened, I saw you, and you looked up, and you smiled at me." Mimori couldn't believe this was happening. Her mind was reeling, irrational thoughts coursing through it, and she was convinced this must have been some terrible joke, some awful trick, the final coup d'état on her heart. "And you smiled, and I wanted to reach out to you so badly, but I couldn't … I couldn't move my limbs. But I called out to you, and you smiled. And I _realized_ … I realized how _stupid_ I'd been, how fucking _stupid_," anger creeping into his voice. Mimori wanted to plead with him to stop, to stop this charade, her heart really couldn't take this right now – maybe later, maybe next week, not now. _Not now, Ryuho, please, not now _she begged silently

It wasn't entirely clear if he was talking to her or himself at this point, but the floodgates had opened and Mimori could see he was making no effort to check his emotions. "And the pain, Mimori, the pain was terrible, but as soon as you looked at me, it all went away. And I realized then that I'd always known, since I first met you, that you were the one for me, being near you made everything better, no matter how bad it was. But I couldn't save you back there, the darkness came and you were crying for me to do something and I couldn't – Mimori? Mimori? _Mimori_?"

----

Mimori felt a rising wave of panic overtaking her, paralyzing fear, and the tiniest bit of excitement fluttering her heart. She was having a hard time taking in Ryuho's words, trying desperately to make sense of what he was saying, assess his sincerity, figure out why this, why now? A choked sob made its way up to her mouth as she tried to tell him to stop, to get up, to stop making her feel this way. She slapped a hand over her mouth to try and smother the rising tide of hot tears, but it was no use - Mimori started to cry.

She covered her face with her hands and slid down the tree to the ground, not caring _what_ Ryuho thought – _you've cared for too long, and look how far it got you_ – and let all the pain, all the sadness, the stress, the worry, all of it, bubble up to the surface and flood out. Her panicked breathing quickened, and just when she thought she was about to suffocate herself, strong arms encircled her and pulled her close.

Mimori couldn't have said what Ryuho was murmuring into her hair, what he was whispering into her ear to soothe her while she sobbed into his shoulder. She was crying too hard to pause and consider the fact that it was Ryuho – _Ryuho! _– who was holding her and stroking her hair. She did know that despite her sobs filling the quiet night air, she felt warmer and safer in these strong arms than she had in years.


	4. La petite seconde d'éternité

I don't own Scryed or the works of Jacques Prévert

_The little second of eternity_

Ryuho pulled Mimori into his lap and began to rock her gently, some vestigial memory from years ago, when he was much, much younger, and still had someone who cared enough to want to make his troubles go away. Laying his cheek against the top of her head, feeling how soft and smooth her hair was, Ryuho was cursing himself silently, wondering how he could have miscalculated this one so badly. _Well, you weren't exactly _thinking_. If you had been, you would've known this was going to go horribly_. He gritted his teeth against the veracity of the statement, but things are what they are, and Ryuho knew that he couldn't let Mimori cry all night. Cougar would definitely murder him, and Kazuma would be next in line, besides the fact that he just wanted her to say something, _anything_ that told him that she heard his words, that she forgave him, that she still loved him.

"Mimori … Mimori. Hey," he said a little more loudly than the soothing whispers he offered to calm her down. Shrugging the shoulder she had claimed as hers to cry on, Ryuho came face to face with the most beautiful girl he had ever known, tear-stained and swollen eyed as she was at this particular moment. Tears still coursed down her cheeks, and she sniffed and hiccupped. Leaning his forehead against hers, he swallowed hard and looked into those brown eyes, so wide and trusting. "Did you catch any of that?" She nodded weakly, still holding his gaze. "Mimori," he started, sadly, softly – "I just … I know I've been beyond terrible since you arrived here, with few exceptions, and I know that … that you have every right to tell me off, but Mimori, I want you to be by my side." His arms squeezed her little waist a little tighter. "I never want to be without you again. Never." Mimori looked at him, eyes watery, but Ryuho noted that her breathing was slowing, her tears no longer spilling with quite as shocking speed. She rested her head back on his shoulder, the occasional hiccup punctuating the quiet.

The more Ryuho mulled over his present position, the more he wondered just where in the hell all these feelings, these actions were coming from. _Is this what happens when you come back from the brink of losing everything? _He'd undergone a fairly radical change after he'd seen the other side for the first time but this was even more drastic. Any sort of reservations had been left by the wayside.

He inhaled the mingled scent of her shampoo and tears. He knew that he had good reasons for pushing her away, though he doubted that Mimori would ever agree with his justifications. But now, with her _here_, even though he'd upset her, even though he could feel her tears seeping through his shirt, he couldn't believe his monumental errors, his astonishing luck that she hadn't flat-out rejected him. This small pleasure of just holding her, feeling her heart beat, being so close to this beautiful girl – how had he denied himself this small comfort? How had he denied _her_ for so long?

----

Mimori's mind was a jumble of thoughts and feelings. Oh, she was _happy_ – who wouldn't be, after hearing the words she'd so desperately wanted to hear for _years_? – but she was pissed. Infuriated, really. And upset, and tired, and a million other things that made all of this so much harder. Her mind was racing, a complete and utter mess: _As if … as IF this would erase everything else, all those slights, the sheer _nastiness_ … the cruelty! Who _(hiccup) _does he_ (hiccup) _think he _(hiccup) _IS! But oh, you know how desperately you've wanted to hear those words_ a voice crept in. _You know you've been dreaming of it_. Not like this! _Not like this!_ she thought indignantly, sitting here under the stars bawling, with a seriously wounded Ryuho barely on the mend …

She gritted her teeth and balled her fists into his shirt, holding on as if for dear life. "Why … _why_ are you doing this to me?" she wailed between gasps and hiccups. "All this time … all the times you were _so awful_ to me. And I knew -" she paused, trying to catch a breath and tell her heart not to explode, "I _knew_ everyone was right, that _you_ were right, that you _didn't_ care for me– and I _knew_ that I should give up, and I was, I really was, I was _trying _to let go, even after we found you after you'd been missing for eight months, even though you'd changed so much … I was _trying_ to prepare for the inevitable . . ." She was crying harder now than she had been in the beginning, tears of anger and frustration welling up with all the sadness and hurt and happiness. "And – and you're so _stupid_ sometimes Ryuho, so cruel, so – so I don't even know how to describe it, so different from the Ryuho I knew." She could feel Ryuho recoiling at her words, though she was sure he knew they were true.

"How could you? For all this time, when you _knew -_" Ryuho opened his mouth to say something, explain himself, but Mimori's eyes flashed dangerously. "Don't – just don't open your mouth. I don't want to hear it." Her tears were subsiding as her rage took over, and she was just getting started. "I don't want to hear any half-baked explanations about _duty_ and _honor_ and _revenge_," she spat, "or about how you loved me so much you _pushed me away_." Ryuho's eyes widened as her voice speeded up to nearly Cougar-esque levels. "I am _not_ in the mood for it. I have no idea why you came out here, or what you want me to say - " _hiccup_ "But I could kill you Ryuho, I could. For all I know, all of this is some horrible joke or you're going to tell me to go home, and for the record, _I am not leaving _(hiccup)." She drew ragged breaths in, trying to get air into her lungs, trying to staunch the flow of tears.

---

Ryuho had never seen her looking so _wild_. Her hair disheveled, face wet, lashes stuck together with tears, lips trembling. But her eyes, her eyes were glittering with an odd light, balanced precariously on the edge between sanity and hysteria. "Well? Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" she demanded, and under other circumstances, Ryuho might have laughed inwardly, considering her tirade had been prefaced by the express instruction to keep his damned mouth shut. Instead, he sighed. "I didn't come out to you to repeat my long list of past transgressions, Mimori," he explained in a tired voice. He saw her mouth open to let out another stream of what Ryuho could only imagine would be … _less_ than complimentary observations on his character. He tightened his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. "I _know_ – I know. And we'll talk about everything in due time, Mimori," _MY Mimori_, every fiber of his body sang out, "but I came because I just … I just needed to see you."

Ryuho felt her stiffen, her hands bracing against his chest, felt her gathering herself to flee, and every part of his being screamed at him: _Stop her! Keep her here, close to you, pull her back, save her from the darkness like you couldn't before!_ All the aches and pains that his body had been reminding him of with every breath seemed to melt away, and he looked at Mimori struggling against him, not entirely sure what to do. Ryuho had never been prone to impulsive action, preferring to study a situation from all angles, taking the most logical path – but a more primitive part of his brain knew that now was not the time for logic, or he would lose Mimori. _Back to the house, back to … Cougar?_ _Forever?_ For once in his life, he allowed instinct to take over, to stop this crying girl from leaving him, to keep her close to him.

----

Mimori's thoughts stopped cold the moment Ryuho's lips touched hers. Her eyes felt pinned open, and she could only focus intently on the shock of green bangs and pale eyelids that were so close her lashes would brush against them if she could just close her eyes. It was a soft kiss, not demanding, just asking her to stay. His hands, his long, elegant fingers, were splayed out on her lower back, his arms pressed against her waist. Not constricting, not pulling, just … there, not allowing her to pull away and leave. Not that she wanted to leave, not now, not with _him_ all around her.

She let her back relax, let her lids droop, still watching Ryuho's eyes flick under the thin skin that covered them. Leaning into his good shoulder, she marveled at how soft his lips were, how pliant, blinking in surprise when he pulled away. Once again resting his forehead against hers, he reached up to brush away hair that still clung to the trails of tears down her face. Her breathing quickened as he caught her gaze and she saw the shy and slightly embarrassed look in his eyes. _Ryuho_. She could've stood up and called out blessings to the sky, to the whole world. She had no idea what had shifted in his head, or if it would last, but she again saw that gaze, saw _that _Ryuho, the Ryuho that was impossibly sweet, the one that thought about more than abstract concepts of _right and wrong_ and _duty_. The one who made her smile.

She thought about the Ryuho she had known seven years ago, knowing that unimaginable pain had come to him after they parted as children, still shocked that he could have changed so much. And now, here was the same shy gaze she remembered from all those years ago, those ruby eyes looking through a screen of green. Mimori smiled tentatively. He offered an equally unsure smile back, and it was if her heart skipped a beat. She realized her hands were gripping his shirt so tightly that they had begun to cramp. Shyly – slowly – she put her arms around his waist, twining her fingers in an attempt to prevent her hands from carefully going over his torso, memorizing every ripple, every muscle, committing it all to memory in case this was just a mistake. In case she never had the opportunity to see him smile again, feel his arms around her.

She leaned forward to catch his lips again, and he inhaled sharply. A thought flitted through Mimori's head that she hadn't any idea what to do next. After all, in the years where most girls had their first dates and kisses and boyfriends, she'd been too busy studying, too busy clawing her way to the top of the academic ladder. Too busy competing with people a decade older than her or more in a desperate attempt to … get back here, to him.

-

They played at being children again, shy and clumsy, unsure of themselves and each other. As grown up and professional as they seemed, they were unschooled in life beyond the realm of work. The occasional nervous laugh after a sloppy kiss or a too-harshly nipped lip were the only sounds that broke the quiet of the night, as Mimori brought forth the Ryuho-from-before, and Ryuho could merely marvel at the woman in his arms.

----

It was a bit like learning how to dance, Ryuho mused as he lay on the hillside, one hand behind his head, the other idly caressing Mimori's thigh. Lots of stepping on feet, the occasional flash of brilliance as the timing became clearer. But Mimori hadn't seemed to mind. He had assumed she was experienced, having spent so many years in the company of older boys – men, even! – astonished when he found that she seemed just as unsure of what to do next. He looked up at her as she sat next to him, watching the stars. He wondered what she was thinking.

He wanted to reach up and pull her down next to him, but Ryuho's limbs refused to cooperate. As the adrenaline wore off, he realized just how much he hurt everywhere, how tired he felt. Closing his eyes, he felt that he could fall asleep right here, as long as _she_ was next to him. How long they had been out under the stars?

"Ryuho?" He swam up through the sleepy haze as Mimori whispered above him. "I think it's time we got you back to the house." He looked up at her leaning over him, looking happier than he had seen her since she had arrived at the Lost Ground. His mind felt so _slow_. He smiled up at her, not entirely registering what she was saying. He'd go anywhere she went, even put up with Kazuma if it would make her happy. She was saying something about everyone being angry, worrying about Ryuho's injuries. She looked so beautiful, hands twisting in her lap as she talked, running her words together out of nervousness. He struggled to sit up.

They walked back slowly, Ryuho's body aching with every step. He hoped Cougar and Scheris had gone to bed; he knew Scheris would cluck over him like a mother hen, reiterating her contention that he should've stayed in bed. He could just hear her: _look at you now, you're worse than before_. There was just too much to think about and his head was not up to the task of sorting through it. Hell, he could barely propel himself in a straight line, instead he followed behind Mimori like a docile dog. _So tired_. But … happy.

----

Mimori quietly opened the door to Ryuho's room. Scheris and Cougar had apparently gone to bed, or at least had made themselves scarce, much to her relief - Ryuho looked like death warmed over, and she couldn't help but to feel a little guilty because of it. _After all_, she chided herself, _you should've dragged him back to bed as soon as you saw him_. At this point, he seemed to be functioning on auto-pilot, stripping his clothes off methodically – Mimori turned her head, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks, glad that he was too tired and out of it to notice the look on her face. He climbed into bed, smoothing the covers out in a well-practiced motion.

Mimori turned the light off, and the room was bathed in moonlight. She leaned up against the doorframe, like she'd done every night for the past week, just watching him, taking comfort in the fact that his heart was still beating and he was still alive. She stood there for a few minutes, dreamily thinking of his words and kisses, until he startled her by whispering her name.

"Will you sit with me until I fall asleep?"

It was such a childish request, something so simple, and Mimori couldn't help smiling.

"Shall I talk, Mr. Tairen?" She asked a little teasingly as she sat down carefully on the edge of his bed, though no doubt Ryuho was too tired to pick up on her tone. "Any requests?" He murmured something unintelligible, rolling onto his side and curling up around her. She slipped a little hand into his, and looking down, she saw that he was watching her through heavy-lidded eyes, half-asleep. _What to do?_ Babbling didn't seem like a good option, but he was obviously too tired to talk. Still, Mimori felt compelled fill the silence. She reached back into her mind for something appropriate … a story? She wanted to laugh, the idea of telling Ryuho Tairen a bedtime story. But she grasped for anything to take her mind off the weight of everything that had just happened.

So she recited him poetry in a lilting voice, not knowing if he was sleeping or awake, or if he would even care what she told him. She began with innocuous things, children's rhymes and old poems of war and diplomacy, and when she thought he was mostly asleep, she whispered to him her most treasured poems, the ones she had loved for years. The ones that made her heart leap and break at the same time.

_Thousands and thousands of years_

_Could not suffice _

_to tell of_

_That little second of eternity …_

---

A/N: From "Le jardin" out of _Paroles_ (Jacques Prévert)


	5. Où tu m'as embrassé

Standard disclaimer, don't own Scryed, etc. etc. etc.

_When you kissed me_

"Mimori-san!" Cougar cried when Mimori emerged bleary-eyed from her room, wanting nothing more than some coffee and time to think. She had tossed and turned all night, finally throwing in the towel and getting up, though she'd not gotten much sleep. "Are you all right? You look exhausted. Coffee? Cereal? Pancakes?" Mimori groaned inwardly, thinking an interrogation was eminent, and amended her earlier wants to include _time to think_ _in peace_. She reached for the cup of coffee Cougar proffered, flashing him a grateful smile. Setting her lips on the edge of the cup, blowing lightly over the steaming liquid in an attempt to cool it down, Mimori focused on the little ripples and waves. The curiosity and concern of the two ex-HOLY members was a bit much to face at this point in her morning routine.

"Is everything all right? Is Ryu … is everything OK?" Scheris inquired, her voice a touch _too_ bubbly. Mimori tried to rub the sleep from her eyes, thinking it was far too early in the day to be talking about any of this. She regarded Scheris for a moment. Despite their "rivalry," and Mimori thought of that loosely (_After all, it's not like Ryuho had shown _either_ of us much interest before last night_), she couldn't help but like the younger girl. Organized, intelligent, adorable, a touch aggressive with her drive to succeed … _let's not forget eternally devoted to Ryuho_ … Mimori was curious to see where Scheris would end up in five years. She took a sip of coffee, noting with a smile that Cougar had made it with just the right amount of cream and sugar.

Mimori caught her lower lip between her teeth, uncertain of how to phrase it or where to begin. "Well, uh, everything's fine. I mean, I'm definitely fine, just tired. Ryuho's going to be fine, though I'd wager that he, um," Mimori paused, clearing her throat nervously, amazed at how inarticulate she felt, "must have gotten quite a blow to the head during his fight with Kazuma. He's acting a bit strange. Actually, it was almost like we were kids again. Well, not exactly like we were kids, but he … I don't know, I haven't seen him act like this since I arrived at HOLD. His body is clearly not ready to be up and about, so I have a feeling he'll be sleeping most of today." She tapped the side of her coffee cup with her fingers, wrinkling her nose as she tried explain what had happened without explaining _exactly_ what happened. "However, that's to be expected in situations like this. But truthfully, it's his mind I'm a little worried about. It's just, um – well, I don't know. It was like he had real …"

"Emotions?" Cougar burst in. "Mimori, dear, you missed quite the show last night – well, maybe not, after all, Ryuho seemed to be quite emotional while he was talking to – dammit, Scheris, don't kick me – us. Drama! Action! Tears! Threats of violence!" Scheris scowled at Cougar, and Mimori arched an eyebrow. _ Did they …?_

"Mimori, we're just a little concerned, that's all. Ryuho, well, I don't think any of us had ever seen him act like he did last night," Scheris said with a shake of her head. "Certainly _I've_ never seen him act like that, and we've been around him for-" Cougar leapt in, leaning in close to Mimori. "Ryuho didn't – he didn't – _didhehurtyoucauseifhedidI'llkillhim!_"

Mimori shook her head frantically. "No, no! Nothing like that! He just … he just wanted -" she scrambled to find the right thing to say – "just wanted to talk about old times. I think he was just a little emotional, you know, Kazuma beating him and being sick. It sounds like he had some disturbing dreams." She smiled weakly at Scheris and Cougar, who both nodded thoughtfully, considering her explanation. Mimori sighed, leaning back against the counter, reaching to pour herself another cup of coffee. It was going to be a long morning.

----

It was early afternoon when Ryuho finally woke up. Sore – but not as sore as yesterday, he noted. Ryuho discovered one of the wonderful things about people thinking you were half-dead was that you could, in fact, play at being half-dead and they would leave you alone. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to anyone – well, no, he really had no desire to talk to Kazuma – but he felt like he _should_ talk to Cougar and Scheris. _Especially_ Scheris – but he just wasn't feeling up to it. While he'd been lying on his side, day dreaming and mulling things over in his head (_since when have you day dreamed? _an astonished part of his brain asked), he'd heard Scheris fussing a little nervously around the room, talking to Kanami.

_He's so sick, I _knew _he shouldn't have gotten up last night, but does he ever listen to me? Blustering around like that … we'll be lucky if he's not out for the next week. I mean, what could have been that important that he had to go storming out like that? It's not like Mimori's going anywhere … you just have to wonder_. _I guess you're used to this, taking care of Kazuma, huh?_

Scheris. She really was loyal to a fault, sweet and smart and cute. They _were_ close, and out of everyone, Scheris knew Ryuho better than anyone else, truth be told. Mimori knew the old Ryuho best, of course, but Scheris had a corner on the market of knowing and adoring the cold, hard, driven Ryuho – the one closest to the present version (_or is it?_). He loved her as a friend, considered her a trusted confidant on most issues. He knew he could count on Scheris no matter what the situation, and took comfort in the fact that someone would stand behind him, even in the worst of times. But as aloof as he was, as blind as everyone thought he was to her feelings, he knew how she felt – he also knew deep down that he would never return her feelings in kind. _And how do you tell someone that? 'Good morning, Scheris, I'm back from the dead. Thanks for tending to my every need for the past couple of years, but I'm never going to be able to love you like you love me. We can still be friends, though! Can I get my breakfast now? I'm starving.'_ Maybe … maybe, if circumstance had been different, he mused, things would've taken another path. But circumstances weren't different. And he just didn't feel like dealing with any of it at the present, he just wanted to be left alone by almost everyone … with one blinding exception …

His thoughts had been consumed by Mimori, everything about her, since he had eased into an exhausted sleep the night before. Her lips and her eyes; the way she'd shaken him without even thinking about it as she cried and berated him. Ryuho had been mostly shut off from his emotions for so long – no, it had been so long since he'd shut his emotions mostly off – that he was entirely unprepared for the barrage of feelings that had taken over his mind. He floated from utter confusion to absolute clarity – _her! It's always been her! _ - back to confusion again. Wondering all the while what she was thinking, wanting desperately to go to her, apologize again, tell her he was sorry for upsetting her last night. Taste her skin, take in every detail. Just in case. One never knew what was right around the corner.

The door to the room opened and light from the hallway came flooding in. "Ryuho?"

Mimori apparently wasn't expecting an answer, because she stepped into the room and shut the door behind her without waiting for his response. Heaving a sigh as she leaned back against the door, it looked like she was relieved to be in this room, behind a closed door. He really should sit up and say something, he thought as she came towards him, eyes barely open, but he just wanted to feel her presence next to him, take in her scent. "I'm just here to check your bandages." She smiled down at him. He felt her fingertips on his hair, but just as suddenly they were gone. One hand clenched by her side, the other closed tightly on her pendant, her brow was furrowed and she muttered to herself – "Oh, for god's sake, Mimori, he's passed out. It's not like he's not going to _bite_ if you touch him …" He realized she thought he was asleep.

Ryuho couldn't resist. Just wanting to see her smile, he snaked his arm out from under his blankets and grabbed her hand while she was busy debating with herself, paying no attention to her patient. Mimori gave a startled shriek, and Ryuho pulled her down to slap a hand over her mouth. _"Shhhh_," he mouthed, watching the fascinating change in her eyes from fright to mirth.

"Mimori? Mimori, what's wrong?" Cougar called as he banged on the door. Mimori looked at Ryuho with a bit of panic in her eyes, but obviously trying hard not to laugh.

"Oh, Cougar, it was, uh … a bug. A spider, actually – it just startled me. I've had an irrational fear of spiders since I was little." They could almost hear Cougar's incredulity through the door. "A spider? How have I never noticed that you …" he started to query. "Yes, a spider, it's dead now, not a problem! I'm just going to check the wounds and redress them, I'll be right out." "Well, if there are any other … _spiders_ that need to be dispatched, you let me know," Cougar said, and Ryuho and Mimori heard his footsteps retreating down the hall.

Mimori turned her head, a smile on her lips. "Sorry," she said quietly, regaining her composure, "but you startled me. I just need to look at your wounds and change your bandages." Grimacing a bit at the effort, Ryuho sat up, still holding her hand. She carefully extricated herself and began the process of unwrapping, checking, and re-bandaging his battered body.

"Some shape I'm in, huh?" he said, grasping for conversation, dismayed at what a stupid statement he'd just made. They had both retreated back into shyness, and Ryuho wasn't entirely sure what to say. She looked up at him seriously. "Ryuho, you should have seen yourself when we got you here. You _and_ Kazuma," she said with more than a tinge of frustration in her voice. Taking a deep breath, she continued: "You two have _got_ to stop this idiotic feud. I said this to Kazuma – we have much bigger issues facing us, and wasting so much energy on … on … some _ridiculous_, hormone-fueled battle to decide who is more of an alter-using bad ass is counterproductive at best and down right stupid at worst. Or both. Especially considering how similar you two are." She stuck her lower lip out a little, frowning as she worked furiously re-bandaging his wounds, and Ryuho was utterly charmed.

"Of course you're right. I told Kazuma as much last night." He saw her slightly disbelieving glance, but noted that she wound the bandages in her hands a little slower. "Well, I only hope you're being serious." She finished up, patting her last piece of handiwork on one of his forearms. She looked cross.

Ryuho reached for hand as she stood up, ostensibly to leave. "Mimori," he said, matching the serious tone she'd taken with him, "I just want to apologize for upsetting you last night." She looked down at him uncertainly. "It's – it's all right," she faltered, "I was a little, ah, too harsh myself. It's been a long week." He shook his head in disagreement as he pulled her back down to him, whispering in her ear. "Would you care to watch the stars tonight?"

"Ryuho, you really shouldn't be up and about, I think it's a bad -" "I'll come find you, whether you give me permission or not, Doctor, so you might as well agree." He was trying to coax a smile out of her, to no avail.

"Will you at least try to sleep some this evening after dinner?" she asked, voice very serious.

"Promise, cross my heart." She brushed his bangs away from his eyes as she mouthed "OK" back to him. His heart ached a bit when he saw how sad she looked as she gave him a half-hearted smile.

Even so, Ryuho felt like he would burst from happiness (he couldn't help but be amazed at these feelings that were assuaging him, thinking this part of him had been non-existent for years) as she walked out of the room, throwing a soft glance back over her shoulder.

----

Mimori couldn't get a moment to herself. She really just wanted to crawl into the bath, read a novel, do _something_ that didn't involve answering questions about Ryuho. Scheris and Cougar had danced around the questions they were obviously dying to ask, but that didn't stop them with coming up with inane things to badger her with. Asuka Tachibana, ever sweet and helpful, had noticed her rising frustration and had dragged Mimori off after she emerged from Ryuho's room, ostensibly to discuss what he and his girlfriend, Cammy, had seen on their short trip to the City. Mimori sat on the front porch, head in her hands, as Tachibana asked if everything was all right.

Mimori gave him a brief run down of what had happened since Ryuho had woken up last night – omitting a few critical details – and she lamented that all she wanted was a little peace and quiet. He tried to steer her towards discussing her thoughts on the future of the Lost Ground, what their next move would be, but Mimori waved her hand in desperation. "Asuka, please, not right now. I've thought about this, and once things have settled down, I'm going to have to get on a plane and head back to the Mainland. But I really, _really_ don't have the energy to think about it at the present." Tachibana nodded respectfully. "Of course, Mimori-san. I apologize, I didn't mean to upset you." "Oh, Asuka, don't apologize, it's nothing. I'm just not feeling myself today."

She was getting up, deciding that a bath sounded excellent (_and I can even lock the door …)_, when she heard Kazuma's angry voice through the half-open front door.

"…Will you assholes just back off? Christ, you'd think she was a fucking criminal – has it occurred to you that she owes _no one_ a damn explanation of whatever happened last night?"

"Has it occurred to _you_ that we're concerned about both of them?" Scheris' angry voice piped up. "You saw Ryuho last night. And Mimori certainly isn't acting like herself today! We're just trying to find out what happened - " "It's none of your _business_ what happened! You know as well as I do that he didn't stagger out of here to go talk about … about politics, or whatever the fuck it is you people think is important! Don't you think she'd tell you if he'd said something earth-shattering, not like it's _likely_ that asshole would actually tell _anyone_ what he was _really _thinking – or is your jealousy blinding you to the fact that she's not a raging bitch like you?" "How _dare_ you, I have never in my life . . . "

Mimori threw open the door. It was rare for Mimori to allow herself to be visibly agitated, but lack of sleep, combined with absolute confusion over what had transpired since Ryuho had woken up, meant her fuse was a bit short. "Both of you!" she shrieked. "Just _stop it_." Scheris stopped in mid-sentence, and Mimori suddenly had three pairs of eyes trained on her in shock. "Of all the stupid things to fight about! Kazuma, I appreciate your concern, but I do _not_ need you speaking for me.I just don't want to talk about _any of it_ – I don't want to talk about Ryuho, I don't want to talk about what's going to happen tomorrow or next week, I don't want to talk about what's going to happen with the Mainland. None of it! Do you get that? All of you? _None of it! _ And I don't want to hear anyone _else_ talking about me _not talking about things I don't want to talk about_."

Scheris could only stare at her, Cougar's mouth was agape, and Kazuma just looked perplexed. Mimori rarely raised her voice, much less came storming into rooms screaming. After regarding everyone in the room with an extraordinarily infuriated gaze, Mimori blinked a few times. Just as quickly as her tirade had begun, it was over. Collapsing into the nearest chair, Mimori couldn't believe she had just flown off the handle like that.

"I'm sorry," she said after a long pause, shielding her eyes with a hand, too embarrassed to look at everyone. "There's just too much going on right now. I … shouldn't have lost my temper like that." Cougar was suddenly by her side. "Mimori-san, surely you know you've done nothing wrong! Scheris and I have just been concerned over your health and well-being, and that of Ryuho's. Surely you can't think that _we_ were trying to _pry_ into your _personal_ affairs …"

"Yes, of course, I understand. I must apologize again," she offered a polite bow as she stood up from the chair, "But truly, nothing that Ryuho and I discussed last night is of any consequence to any of you. I know you're worried about him, Scheris," Mimori turned to the blue-haired girl, who was sheepishly looking at the floor, "but badgering me isn't going to get your questions answered any faster. I don't know what's going on anymore than you do." She gave a little bow again by way of apology, and made her way to a hot bath and a smidge of privacy. Which is all she'd wanted today, she thought. Was it so much to ask for?


	6. Où je t'ai embrassée

I still don't own Scryed. Don't sue me, I'm a broke student.

_Where I kissed you_

Mimori absently swished her glass of wine around in circles, occasionally glancing at the deep burgundy as it caught light from the house and shone up at her. No one ever bothered her during her star-watching time, though she had still felt the need to surreptitiously sneak out of the house, bottle of rotgut merlot and two glasses in hand. She hadn't come out of the bathroom for two hours, mostly out of embarrassment after her outburst; she'd listened at the door until it sounded like everyone had gone to the front porch, and then she made her escape. She took a sip of wine, trying to erase the feeling of absolutely losing control of herself. Maybe she'd just been keeping everything too bottled up lately. Then again, it was hard to find a time and a place to pour her heart out to anyone …

Tachibana, his girlfriend Cammy, and Kanami were the only people she felt truly at ease with in the house, and it was only the youngest girl who Mimori could talk freely to. One manifestation of Kanami's alter ability - being able to sense what often seemed to be people's deepest, most private feelings - was a little off-putting at first, especially when she recognized feelings and thoughts people had that they couldn't even admit to themselves. But she was so wonderful, so sweet and caring, never failing to take Mimori's mind off whatever bad things were happening – and she was so _sincere_. It was refreshing, after navigating complicated relationships for so many years. Mimori never had to worry that Kanami had ulterior motives, unlike some people. She took another swig of wine.

Mimori pursed her lips. It seemed strange that Kanami was the one person she felt truly safe talking to. After all, their ten-year age gap was significant. Still, Mimori told Kanami about all her worries and hopes for the future, especially in terms of the future of the Lost Ground. The younger girl knew more than she was willing to say, or perhaps couldn't interpret what she saw in her mind, but Mimori could see it in those wide green eyes. "Mimori-san," she had said soon after they had arrived at this little sanctuary, "Everything will be all right, I'm sure of it. It won't be easy, but we will make it through."

Mimori still didn't know what she was going to do, what the appropriate course of action was. She knew that the responsibility of going to the Mainland and making diplomatic overtures would fall to her, what with her family's position and connections. She wasn't looking forward to making _that_ call to her father. Mimori believed in the people of the Lost Ground, though, and would do anything to see that they could rebuild their lives in peace. She poured herself a little more wine. _Maybe one day_, she thought with a smile, _there will even be decent vineyards here_.

"If you'd told me a year ago that I'd be climbing out of windows to watch the stars in the countryside, I'd have said you were crazy, or worse."

Mimori looked over as Ryuho settled himself on the grass next to her. "And if you'd told me a year ago that I'd be sitting under a tree in the countryside, drinking rotgut and enjoying it, I certainly would have said you were insane," Mimori said with a laugh. "And what were you doing, climbing out of your window?"

Ryuho reached over her for the wine, pouring himself a glass. Sniffing the red liquid, he blanched. "What _is_ this? Are you sure it's even wine?" he asked only half-jokingly, scrutinizing the glass suspiciously. "Ah, Mr. Tairen, apparently your duties with HOLY left you unable to sample the fine pleasures of …" Mimori gestured grandly, "_Château de La Terre Perdue_! This is an _excellent _vintage, you know. Cost me quite a bit of money on the black market for something of this quality." She shot Ryuho a sidelong glance, not even bothering to hide her smile.

"Well, Miss Kiryu, this certainly has an interesting (_cough_) bouquet – I can truly say I've never experienced anything quite like this. I'm not entirely sure I was missing something before, though." Ryuho took another sip of wine and grimaced. "As for climbing out my window, I just didn't feel like answering any questions this evening." Mimori gave a sigh and couldn't help but smiling, Ryuho's comment reminding her of the absolute comedy of errors that had been the past twenty-four hours. The look on everyone's faces when she had snapped, Cougar offering to dispatch any more "spiders" that startled her, this terrible, awful wine, the mental image of Ryuho _climbing out a window _to avoid an interrogation … Mimori started to giggle. _Get a hold of yourself, Mimori_ a little voice warned.

She caught Ryuho's puzzled look, which just made her laugh a little harder. Too much wine – she hadn't had dinner, had she? – too much stress. "Oh, Ryu – _Mr. Tairen_, I mean – it's just, it's just -" _get a grip_, she told herself sternly, which seemed to do some good, "you wouldn't believe the grilling I got today. And I finally snapped, I mean, I really lost it, and I haven't been that embarrassed since … well, I don't know, it's been a while." She took a few deep breaths, exhaling slowly. "I had to lock myself in the bathroom for two hours just to make sure no one could bother me." She looked down at her wine, sheepish smile on her face, shaking her head incredulously. "I just … I know it's only going to get harder from here, all of it, but it seems like everything's falling apart at the seams right now. I don't know, Ryuho, I really just don't know sometimes."

----

They sat in companionable silence for a while, Mimori watching the stars and Ryuho watching Mimori. A shooting star streaked by, and she gasped, her whole face lighting up. She seemed to realize suddenly that he was watching her intently. She smiled at him, and explained: "I know it must seem so silly, star-watching. It's not like I haven't seen this same sky a thousand other nights before. It just … it's just that it makes me _feel_ young again, you know? I feel like there's nothing in the world that can bother me, like I was 12 again or something." She went silent, looking down at her glass.

Ryuho tilted his head quizzically, trying to read her expression as she bit into her lower lip and rolled the stem of her wine glass between her fingers, "I guess that sounds really childish, doesn't it? I mean, it's not like something terrible happened to me," she continued, "I'm not Scheris or Kanami or Kazuma … or even you. I've had a privileged, happy life, it's not like anyone tore all this important stuff away from me and I was _forced_ to grow up before I was ready. I just feel sometimes like I grew up too fast, worked too hard – I missed all this important stuff that I didn't _have to_, and for what? I just wish I could go back sometimes, do it all over again. And then I feel horribly guilty, you know. I'm the spoiled brat, my parents are rich, I've been able to do so many things that most people can only dream of. As if money makes it all better. But I just look at what other people lost, and I haven't gone through anything like that – what right do I have to feel like … like I'm somehow missing something? What right do _I_ have to want to go back a few years, back when things were easier?" She took in a shuddering breath.

Ryuho was surprised by Mimori's candor. She looked so miserable at the moment, guilty and shameful and a whole host of other things, things he couldn't quite put his finger on. "Mimori …" he started softly, reaching for her hand. "I don't think anyone would want you to feel guilty for thinking all that. Truly. I think all of us here are in the same situation, in some respects. We all grew up too fast. I don't think there's anyone who wouldn't wish that things were … easier."

"But Ryuho, everyone else has reasons to wish for that. I don't, not really. I was just disappointed when I arrived, disappointed by a lot of things … I thought I was so grown up in so many ways, and I got here and realized that I was an idiotic, idealistic child," she downed the remainder of her glass. "I mean, I thought I was coming to help, do good work. And I thought I was coming back to someone, when in fact that someone no longer existed. And I was too shortsighted to realize it. I based my reasons for coming back on … on something that didn't exist, a _lot_ of things that didn't exist, for purely selfish reasons, and I was _so angry_ when things didn't work out as I dreamed of them." She held out her glass to Ryuho, who hated to let go of that little soft hand, but he poured her some more rotgut, and topped his off for good measure.

"Mimori, I don't think you were being shortsighted. A lot of things happened that you couldn't have known about, but truthfully," he looked at her earnestly, hoping she'd realize that he was deadly serious, "I'm _glad_ you came back looking for the old me, otherwise, who knows what would have happened? No, we can't turn back time. But we can move forward, make our lives better. It's one reason I've always ... You want to make things better, not out of any ulterior motives or obligation, but just because that's how you are." He squeezed her hand, and she weakly squeezed back.

"Ryuho, you think too highly of me. I came back here to satisfy my curiosity about alter power, alter users. I came back to find you. I do want to stay, I do want to help the people here regroup and rebuild and I don't want any other children to have to grow up too fast. But that's not _why_ I came back. I'm not some great humanitarian."

Ryuho shook his head. "Mimori, you don't think highly _enough_ of yourself. Maybe you did come back here for me and were sorely disappointed, maybe you did stumble upon things you could never have imagined about HOLD and HOLY and alter users. But does that really matter at the present? You _want_ to make things better, you _want_ to fix things," he drew her close to him. "_That's_ what matters. Besides," he kissed her head and smiled down at her, voice teasing a bit "We need your rich-girl connections for diplomatic in-roads with the Mainland."

She sighed and snuggled against him, but he caught the merest hint of a smile on the corner of her lips. "Ryuho, I know I'll have to go back to the Mainland very soon. I realize that I'm the only one in any sort of position to go over and … negotiate, which is really a pretty sad state of affairs, when you think about it. But I really don't want to think of it right now. We have a lot of work to do, all of us, but I haven't even managed to entirely process the past month, much less the rest of it, and I'm in no state to start mapping out our game plan right now. I may be a rich girl," she sighed, "but I'm not a diplomat."

He tilted her head up with an index finger, nipping her lower lip softly. "Then we'll speak of it no more for the evening, Miss Kiryu." Returning the nip in kind and flicking her tongue against his lips, she whispered back to him, "I'd appreciate that, Mr. Tairen. I do believe there are more pressing matters at hand."


	7. Un matin dans la lumière de l'hiver

I still, shockingly enough, don't own Scryed. Or the poetry of Omar Khayyam or Jacques Prévert.

_One morning in the light of winter_

Mimori had to smile as she sat on the front porch, kicking a leg idly as the swing went back and forth slowly. It was a gorgeous morning: the sun was coming on to the porch _just so_, and there were scattered puffs of white clouds lazily drifting in the wide-open sky. The book of poetry she'd been reading had been abandoned to her lap, and as she looked out to the rolling green hills, she thought back on the past 3 weeks. She and Ryuho had been circling each other in a formal dance since the night she'd rambled on to him about her concerns; she wasn't sure where it was leading, but it was certainly better than things … _before_. The household seemed to be settling into some semblance of a normal routine: Kazuma and Ryuho still slept a good part of the day, though they were firmly on the mend, while everyone else in the house spent their time discussing the future, their strategy for organizing the Lost Ground into some cohesive little unit to aid in rebuilding and staving off the inevitable advances from the Mainland. Well, except Kanami, who, despite her young age, ran a very tight ship, making sure everyone was fed and the house wasn't an absolute pigsty.

Mimori rested her chin in her hand, closing her eyes and enjoying the warmth of the morning sun that slanted onto the porch. She was planning on making a call to her father as soon as possible, to see if they couldn't set up some meeting with Mainland officials – she just needed to buy time, reach some sort of agreement. _Not that I'm a diplomat_, she thought with an inward frown, _but there's no one else_ …. She wasn't looking forward to it. Her parents had always been fairly permissive, not that Mimori had ever given them reason _not_ to be – _after all_, she mused, _when your only child is busy finishing grad school by the age of 18, it's not like she has much _time_ to get into trouble_. Still, her father had been furious with her decision to stay in the Lost Ground. She winced remembering his harsh words when she'd explained her reasoning. Her mother seemed to understand, though, so that was a point in Mimori's favor. What awaited her on the Mainland? A comfortable life, to be sure, but an arranged marriage, a life of parties and charity balls and … lots of things she wasn't terribly interested in. _Mother always understood that desire for – for more than the comfortable life_.

No, Mimori had decided long ago to build her life on the Lost Grounds. Now more than ever, she felt like she could do some real good here. The question was how best to rebuild, put in place a governance structure … Kazuma had rightfully pointed out (perhaps with a little _too _much venom, Mimori thought) that most Inners weren't going to be terribly hot on the idea of some government being put into place, unless they could be assured that it would truly be _their_ government – actually, he thought the whole idea was a bit pointless, though Mimori had pointed out that without some sort of cohesive structure, they'd have little chance of fending off the Mainland, should the Mainland make a bid to retake the Lost Ground. Kazuma, of course, had insisted that the native alters could protect the Lost Grounds _just fine_ -

"Whatcha reading?" Mimori was startled out of her reverie. "Oh! Hey, Scheris," Mimori looked down to the book in her lap. "Just some old poetry. We read it in one of the few fun classes I got to take in college. I always liked this poet, his words are so … natural." She looked at the battered and dog-eared book fondly, tracing the title with her fingers, _Paroles_ spelled out in fancy, slanting script. _Seems like so long ago_ … She looked back up at Scheris, smile on her face. "What's up?"

Scheris leaned up against the porch railing. "Not much, we were all just discussing what we're going to do next. We can't stay here forever, unfortunately. I think it's time to head back to the City. With that in mind, Cougar, Tachibana, and I are going to leave this afternoon to try and locate some appropriate housing situations and a … base of operations, I guess you could say."

Mimori looked up thoughtfully at the blue-haired girl. "Much as I hate to admit it, you're entirely correct that we can't stay here," she said a bit sadly, gesturing out to the pastoral setting. "I was planning on calling my father today. I think it's imperative that we nail down some sort of arrangement with the Mainland, no matter how temporary. I'd feel better, though, if I could at least go to them with some sort of workable plan in place."

Scheris nodded, looking up at the porch ceiling, mind obviously clicking away. "Yes, of course. I think we can all understand that, though Kazuma seems really resistant to the idea …. Not that I can blame him. I'm not sure of the least abrasive way to approach the issue? But I think we need to get back to civilization before we decide anything like that. So …" Scheris changed the subject, reaching to pick up the book out of Mimori's lap, "what's in here that you love so much?"

Mimori felt the heat rising in her cheeks, knowing that she must look so lazy, sitting out here reading poetry while everyone else was inside _doing_ something. "Ah … a lot of things. He writes so beautifully." Scheris looked up as Mimori's voice softened. "It's so different from everything else I've read in my life. I guess part of me also loves it so much because I found it the one time I did something for myself, something fun. Of course," Mimori paused, laughing a bit, "most kids in college thought 'something fun' was photography or stuff like that. I thought it was 20th century French poetry. I guess that says something about me, doesn't it?" She looked up at Scheris, remembering all those whispers throughout the years – _So dedicated. So serious. God, doesn't that bitch _ever_ lighten up_?

"I suppose, Mimori-san. You can be a little too driven for your own good, I think, but what do I know? Then again, I guess there are more than a few of us in this house that share the same trait. Here," she said, handing the book back to Mimori, "read me something. One of your favorites." Mimori was a little taken aback by Scheris' request; it seemed so … intimate somehow.

Paging through the marked-up book, Mimori scanned the titles for something good. There were plenty of poems in here she adored, but she'd always thought of her very favorites as little treasures, something to be hidden away from everyone else. A decadent treat that was all hers, to be doled out most carefully. She didn't want to share _those_.

"Ah – here." She began to read, voice a little hesitant at translating out loud, though it wasn't as if she hadn't read the poem a thousand times before.

_Immense and red_

_Above the Grand Palais_

_The winter sun appears_

_And disappears_

_Like it, my heart is going to disappear_

_And all my blood is going to go_

_Go look for you_

_My love_

_My beauty_

_And find you_

_There where you are_.

Scheris clapped her hands together, eyes closed in appreciation. "Mimori, that's lovely!" Mimori was surprised by the rapturous expression on Scheris' face - she'd never thought of her as the type to like poetry. "It is, isn't it? It's even prettier in the original. I'm glad you like it."

-

The two remained on the porch in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. An olive branch had been extended and accepted.

----

Ryuho had staggered, half-asleep, into the living room just as everyone was about to head out the door – Tachibana, Cammy, Scheris, and Cougar were going back to the City, they explained. "Mimori is going to stay here and make some calls to the Mainland," Scheris told him, "and neither you nor Kazuma are well enough yet to keep up. We'll be back late tomorrow, I think." He furrowed his brow, irritated at the implication he'd be an _impediment_.

"Now, Ryuho," Cougar interjected, "You take good care of Miss Mimori. I would hate to come back to my darling girl being upset or worse." Cougar's tone set Ryuho on edge – no doubt, that was the point. "She's not _your_ girl," he snarled, "and it's not like she can get herself into much trouble here in the middle of nowhere."

"Oh, my dear boy." Cougar patted Ryuho's shoulder as he threw his head back and laughed. "Anywhere you are is an opportunity for _my _Mimori to find herself besieged by misery!" Ryuho's eyes narrowed. "Cougar, I swear to god-"

"Ok, you two, we really don't have time for this right now." Scheris stepped in between the two men, pushing them apart lightly. "We'll be back soon, I told Mimori we'd call if anything important comes up," Scheris said with a slight smile, "though heaven only knows how likely that is."

After saying (mostly) polite goodbyes, Ryuho padded into the kitchen, following the smell of coffee. Perhaps caffeine would improve his mood. Tachibana, Scheris, and Cougar taking off for the City had rubbed him the wrong way. He was a bit put out that no one had bothered to inform him they were leaving earlier, but the mere _thought_ that he'd be dead weight was positively infuriating. And Cougar – Ryuho balled his fists reflexively. _Cougar's_ Mimori. The concept was preposterous!

He thought about the past few weeks as he prepared his coffee, and a smile crept onto his lips. _Mimori_. Some wall had been breached that night three weeks ago, when she had confessed her feelings of guilt and immaturity. Still, it wasn't as if every barrier had been broken down. To the contrary, Ryuho found more had sprung up – he and Mimori were engaged in a complex ritual of courtship, both of them too serious and too circumspect to leap into something head first, no matter how much they both wanted it. Still, Ryuho wasn't complaining. It was an utter delight to have her so close, close enough to touch and smell and kiss. She waited for him every night under the stars, and they stayed out for hours – Ryuho was sure that most people their age would consider mere kisses impossibly tame, but it was the closest thing to heaven he could imagine.

He sipped his coffee, thinking of the dreamy look on her face the evening she had brought out some bread and cheese for them, a bottle of wine. She had been expounding on some intellectual thought or another, as though suddenly remembering that he, too, had received an education like hers before joining HOLY. She looked so different from the first night, so tranquil. He had leaned in close, whispered a long-forgotten verse to her –

_Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,_

_A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse---and Thou_

_Beside me singing in the Wilderness---_

_And Wilderness is Paradise enow._

Her face lit up, recognizing its source, and she had kissed him, unable to contain her utter delight. "It's lovely, you know," she'd confided later that night. "I haven't talked like this to anyone in years. I was too young for everyone in college to take me seriously on some matters. In retrospect, I suppose they had good reasons - after all, Omar Khayyam suddenly means so much more after you've … well, it just feels a little more real at the present moment."

"Ryuho-san?" He nearly dropped his coffee cup at the unexpected intrusion. Kanami was standing in front of him, arms loaded with dirty dishes and cups. He realized he was standing in front of the sink.

"Here, let me," he said to her, setting his cup down on the counter and taking the pile of dirty dishes from her. "Sorry. I didn't realize I was standing in front of the sink. Don't worry, I'll handle these. You have enough on your plate without having to clean up after that herd." He smiled down at the young girl, who was looking up at him curiously.

"Ryuho, what were you thinking of? You looked so happy."

"I – uh -" _not like it's any use to lie to her, she'd know it in a flash_. "Mimori," he said under his breath. Kanami smiled knowingly. It really was a bit disconcerting, Ryuho though, having someone who intuitively knew so much around.

"You make her happy, Ryuho-san, and she is going to need you very soon. But I think, no – I'm sure," Kanami smiled at Ryuho, who found himself strangely riveted by her green eyes, "that you already know that. I worry about Mimori-chan. She's too hard on herself."

He looked down at the sink of dirty dishes; something about the methodical process of dish washing always calmed him down. "She's just unsure of herself, Kanami. I don't think she's realized that it doesn't really make any difference how different her life has been from many of us." _Though it wasn't so long ago that _you_ wouldn't have said that_.

Conversations with Kanami were always a little strange, Ryuho thought, as if someone was looking into your soul. It was odd, to say the least. Kanami, perhaps sensing his discomfort, began to help him with the dishes, occasionally looking up at him with big eyes and a smile.

"Ryuho-san," she finally said in a quiet voice, "I'm glad you've finally found her." He looked back at Kanami, trying to force out something, but his voice was frozen. Kanami looked back at the sink. "It's ok, Ryuho-san, I know you're glad, too."

----

Kazuma paused to close the front door – _Damn pigs must've left it open when they breezed out of here, guess the concept of a door that doesn't close automatically is a bit too low-tech for them_, he groused inwardly – when he heard Mimori's voice out on the porch. He stood and listened, not really caring that eavesdropping was generally considered impolite – _like that's ever stopped me before_.

"Yes, I understand …. No, of course not. I wasn't planning on coming in, guns blazing, which is why I _called_ as opposed to hopping on a plane tomorrow …. Yes, I _realize_ I'm not a diplomat, I also _realize_ that we don't have any other options …. _Just_ a researcher?" her voice was practically squeaking in indignation, and Kazuma was curious as to who was eliciting such a response from Mimori. He looked out the screen door, watching Mimori nervously twist her hair around her fingers as she sat on the front steps.

"No, Daddy, I am _not_ coming home. We've been through all of this before. I think I'd rather slit my throat than be married off to that … that … _piggish_ brat! … I don't _care_ if it's a good match! …. You know, we can talk about this later. I'm not in the mood right now."

Kazuma wondered what it was like, having parents to argue with. Mimori was so smart and independent - strong-willed, too - it was strange hearing her argue with her … father. Kazuma was pretty sure Mimori didn't receive any support from her family, so why was she on the phone now, trying her damndest to be polite and not just telling her old man to buzz off?

"All right, Daddy, fine. I'll see you in a week and a half …. Yes, I know. I'm not _stupid_ you know." A heavy sigh. "Daddy, is Mama there? Yes, if you don't mind …. Hi Mama. I just wanted to let you know I'll be home shortly …. _no_, not permanently …. oh, Mother, don't cry. Please? …. I know, Mama, believe me, it will all work out. Look, I have to go, I just wanted to tell you that I love you and I'll see you soon … .Yes, I know everyone's concerned …. No, no, I'm _fine_, I promise …. Yes, I'll be home next week – ok. I'll see you soon."

Mimori snapped her phone shut in a well-practiced motion, threw it as far as she could manage, put her head in her lap, and screamed. Kazuma couldn't help laughing, and he laughed even harder when Mimori turned around with a look that could kill fixed in her eyes.

"Kazu – _Kaza-kun_!" She growled, knowing he hated Kanami's pet name.

"Aw, Mimori, come off of it. The picture of you tossing that phone – you throw like a girl, by the way – and screaming into your damn knees was too much. I mean," he stepped out onto the porch, sitting down next to her, "Sorry for listening and all, but damn." He shook his head, trying to erase the image of Mimori's little tantrum before he really started roaring with laughter. Mimori huffed, looking irritated. "What was that all about, anyways?" He looked at her curiously, and she returned his glance sullenly.

"Just talking to my parents. It's usually a frustrating experience."

"Yeah, but why?" Kazuma leaned back on his elbows. "I mean, it's not like you need them, right?"

"Under usual circumstances, no, I don't _need_ them, per se. However, in light of the current situation, I felt it was best if someone could go make diplomatic overtures to the Mainland," she explained matter-of-factly, tone clipped.

"Well, whatever. I still think this whole 'diplomacy' thing is idiotic, just tell the assholes to bring it on." Kazuma reached out a hand, flexing it and balling it back into a fist. He caught the change in her body language; she looked like a coiled spring waiting to explode – "Ah, Mimori, I'm just kidding. Well, sort of. Look, I know I don't understand all this stuff you and the rest of them have been talking about lately, and I really don't think that some of this stuff is going to fly …" _and that's putting it mildly_, he thought to himself. "But you know I'll do anything to protect Kanami. And you, and some other people, but Kanami especially, and if you think that your way will help me do that, well, I'm willing to go along with it. For a while, at least." He narrowed his eyes. "But only for you and Kanami, understand? The rest of 'em here … eh. I know the past is the past and all that shit, but still."

Mimori's glum look brightened a little. "Really?" Kazuma nodded at her. "I – thank you. It makes me feel so much better, knowing you'll be there behind me. I just – I'd really like to forget all about the Mainland, but we can't. We just can't, Kazuma." She clenched the ever-present pendant in her left hand, a fierce look in her eyes.

Kazuma wasn't sure what to say. He looked up at the sky and noted the low bank of black clouds rolling in. "S'gonna rain. You might want to get that phone of yours before it's ruined." He nodded towards the little rectangle of silver lying in the grass.

Mimori's eyes opened in surprise and realization. "Oh! Damn - dammit!" She yelped and ran out to retrieve her phone as the first heavy drops began to fall. "And you're the one we're supposed to trust to fix relations with the Mainland? Damn. Guess the Shell Bullet will be making an appearance sooner than I thought." Mimori opened her mouth in indignation, seemingly unaware that the heavens had opened up and rain was pouring down. She furrowed her brow crossly, and Kazuma thought he was really going to get it.

But Mimori broke into a smile as she stood there, and looked up at the sky, holding a hand out to feel the heaviness of the cold rain. She turned away from him, surveying the horizon "Yes, Kazuma, you're supposed to trust me. I think … I think everything will be OK, though – oh!" Lightening streaked across the sky and Mimori looked up in wonder. Kazuma shook his head, amazed that the future of this place was potentially riding on Mimori, star gazer and lover of lightening. Woman-girl child. Christ, the mere thought was enough to ….

"I see that look on your face, Kaza-kun," Mimori laughed as she glanced back to him, "The _I cannot believe we're trusting the future of our home to this crazy girl from the Mainland _look." She reluctantly came back to the porch, looking like a drowned rat – _admittedly, a very pretty drowned rat, but still_ – and reached for his hand. "I promise, Kazuma, I'll do my very best. Th- thank you. Sometimes, I don't know what I'd do without you and Kanami."

She blushed a little and withdrew her hand quickly. Kazuma tilted his head as he looked at her, still amazed it had taken Ryuho so long to snatch this one up. "S'ok, Mimori. I'm not entirely sure what we'd do without you, either."

---

Mimori absently banged her heels against the kitchen cabinets as she sat on the counter, watching Ryuho cook. He'd insisted that Kanami take a break from "waiting on this house full of farm animals," as he put it, so Kazuma had taken her to visit some friends for the evening.

"Farm animals, huh?" Mimori said to Ryuho, who was scowling at the pan full of what would eventually be dinner. "Yes, farm animals. I'm astonished Kanami manages to keep up with all of this stuff around this house – hand me that bowl of garlic, will you? – and it's a bit disheartening, considering she's the youngest by what, seven years?"

"Well, yes – but I still don't know that I'd describe us as _farm_ animals. Do you want the ginger, too?"

"No, I already got that – I never said I was talking about _you_, Miss Kiryu, but you should've seen the pile of dirty dishes she carried in this morning. Is it so much to ask that people rinse their damn coffee cups?" Mimori put her head down, looking at the linoleum of the kitchen floor, smiling a little. It felt nice to be sitting here so casually, listening to Ryuho complain about the lack of housekeeping around the house.

"Well, Mr. Tairen, you are a little more fond of order and neatness than is, perhaps, _natural_," she said a bit teasingly, and Ryuho snorted. "Nothing wrong with order and neatness. Nothing at _all_," he said with a mock haughtiness. "Oh – before I forget, Kazuma gave me this for you. Said something about a thank you." Ryuho grabbed a bottle out of the refrigerator, handing it over to Mimori. She was surprised by the lack of rancor when Ryuho mentioned Kazuma's name, and was even more shocked when she saw the contents of the bottle.

"Where … where did he _get_ this?" She looked up at Ryuho, eyes wide. "What is it? More rotgut?" Ryuho asked quizzically, wondering if his taste buds could take a third bottle of the stuff in as many weeks. Mimori shook her head and showed him the bottle.

"No, it's French, and unless the label is forged, it must've been expensive. I recognize the name from parties my parents threw, it's not top-shelf but it must've been expensive _here_." She read the label again and let out a low whistle. "How in the world did he get this? And how in the hell did _Kazuma_ know a good bottle of wine when he saw it?" Mimori asked, thinking it was no small wonder that this little piece of her comfortable life on the Mainland was here in her hands.

Ryuho laughed. "He's spent most of his life eking out a living, which generally includes meeting some unsavory characters. I think you'd be surprised at exactly what you can get on the black market here, and what those _unsavory characters_ know about high-brow goods." Mimori wrinkled her nose, not wanting to know about _exactly what one could get_.

"I guess you're right. That was awfully sweet of him, though I'm still not exactly sure what he meant by a 'thank you' – here, hand me the corkscrew. We can celebrate an evening that doesn't involve climbing out windows," she said to him with a devilish smile.

----

A/N: The Prévert poem is "Immense et Rouge" from _Paroles_; the little stanza is from the _Rubaiyat_ of Omar Khayyam (perhaps one of the most famous).


	8. Sur la terre

Still don't own Scryed. Lemon-ish stuff ahead.

_On Earth_

Mimori leaned back against the cabinet, sighing with satisfaction at having totally stuffed herself on dinner.

"Good god, you'd think you hadn't eaten for eons," Ryuho said to her, eyes wide in amazement at her wolfish appetite (and hideous table manners, Mimori supposed). Mimori smiled at him, taking a sip of wine, sighing again at the pleasure of having something other than water or rotgut.

"Well, I don't eat much when I'm feeling stressed. This has been the first night I haven't felt entirely on edge. And who knew you could cook so well?" Mimori _had_ been impressed. It's not like the pan-fried noodles and vegetables had been a difficult dish, but Ryuho had never seemed to be the cooking type.

"There's a lot of things I'm proficient at, Miss Kiryu. Give me a little credit, please." Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked at Mimori, who was feeling delighted with how well the evening had been going. She was even pleased it was raining, thinking about how much she loved falling asleep to the sound of rain. "You're in an awfully good mood. Kazuma said you were pretty irritated this afternoon after getting off the phone."

Mimori took another sip of wine, returning Ryuho's steady gaze uncertainly. "Well," she said, feeling her good mood deflating, "I was hoping to forget about it for a few days." She paused, hoping Ryuho wouldn't push the issue, but he merely arched an eyebrow and nodded at her, obviously expecting her to go on. Mimori sighed.

"I called my father today. I'm scheduled to be on a plane back to the Mainland in a week and a half, he's setting up some meetings and things like that. And we have some family business to attend to." Mimori swallowed hard. "Family business?" Ryuho inquired. "Of what sort, that you'd have to be there for?" "Ryuho, it's nothing, it's just-" "Well obviously, it's _something_ important," he snapped, "and I'd like to know what it is that's bothering you so much."

Mimori looked at him, really wishing that this was happening some other night, not today – when there was finally some respite from prying eyes and she was feeling so happy and relaxed. "My father has been trying to arrange a marriage for me for years, and apparently he feels now is the time to proceed." She felt the weight of what she had just said hanging heavy between her and Ryuho. Time seemed to slow down a little, and her heart threatened to jump out of her chest.

Ryuho was staring at her in a mixture of surprise and horror. "_What?_ To _whom_, if I may be so bold as to inquire?"

Mimori closed her eyes, not wanting to see the expression on Ryuho's face. "The son of one of my father's business associates. Taro Ito. Ryuho, it's not like I -" He cut her off, voice low with fury. "You didn't see fit to at least _mention_ this little detail? That I'm – that _you_ are apparently contracted elsewhere? Were you just hoping it would _go away_? What are we, living in the eighteenth century? Christ."

Mimori narrowed her eyes, and matched his furious tone. "I didn't see _fit to mention it_ because prior to the past three weeks, it's been none of your god damned business, and it's _still_ not any of your business. It's a _family_ matter and I'm attempting to take care of it, thank you. And it's not _uncommon_ for powerful families to make matches for their children, in case you haven't noticed." She polished off the last bit of rosé in her glass, glaring at him as she rolled the slightly sweet, slightly sharp taste in her mouth.

"Not any of my business? _Not any of my business_? Surely you can't have forgotten- " Mimori gritted her teeth and snapped, "Of course I haven't forgotten. Why do you think I'm preparing to do battle with my father over this? God, Ryuho, has it occurred to you that I've stayed here over the _vehement_ objections of my father? I mean, honestly," she spat, "I'm not some spineless idiot who's going to sign away the rest of my life to make my father happy."

Mimori was infuriated. She couldn't believe Ryuho was getting angry with her because her _father _had some idiotic dream of making a fine match between two rich families. Ryuho couldn't possibly believe that she _wanted _that.

"If you really care to know, I was _planning _on asking you to come with me when I go."

"I assume at the same time you were _planning_ on telling me you're contracted in marriage negotiations." He poured himself another glass of wine, and politely refreshed Mimori's glass, though she noticed his hands were shaking ever so slightly.

Mimori gave herself a few seconds to calm down. After composing herself, she looked at Ryuho coolly. "Well, if you feel _that_ strongly, I suppose I could just bring Cougar. He'd be excellent company, I'm sure." She took another sip of her wine, not even bothering to look at Ryuho. She'd regret the comment if he wasn't being such a jackass, Mimori thought to herself.

When she finally looked up, Ryuho was standing in front of her. _His eyes look astonishingly_ … _snake-like_, _of all things_. She lifted her chin, holding his enraged gaze with an imperious look of her own.

"What – did – you – just – say?"

Mimori straightened her shoulders. "I _said_ I could always just take Cougar along with me." Ryuho looked like he was ready to explode. He was so close to her that she could feel his breath on her lips.

"_Abso. Lutley. Not._" He put his head down, turning his gaze to the sink, apparently trying to regain his composure. "Do you know what he said to me today?" Mimori arched an eyebrow and shook her head. He looked back up at her.

"He told me to take care of _his_ woman while he was away. And I'll be _damned_ if I'm letting him get on a plane with you so you can pass _him_ off to your parents as a suitable marriage candidate."

Mimori let out an involuntary squeak when Ryuho pulled her down from the counter. She looked up at him coquettishly. "I'll take that as a yes, you'll come with me?"

His breath was hot on her ear. "I would be honored, Miss Kiryu." He nipped her earlobe; Mimori was about to snuggle into him, but he picked her up. She squirmed – "Ryuho, _put me down_!" - but he just tightened his grip on her. _What in the world has gotten into him?_

---

Ryuho wasn't sure what had possessed him to toss Mimori into his arms – every part of his being was coursing a little too fast for him to put a finger on it. He wasn't even sure where he was _going_. A conversation was going on in his mind between the rational side that told him to _just put her down_ and a more primal part of his brain that said _anywhere soft will do_. The primal side won out, at least for the moment.

With Mimori still wriggling in his arms – he desperately wanted to tell her to stop it, though she couldn't possibly know the effect she was having on him – he strode into her room, kicking the door shut with his foot, laying her down on the bed. She sat up as he stood over her, looking a little uncertain, but Ryuho saw that coquettish expression from before still glinting in her eyes. She pulled him down next to her, and he growled in her ear, knowing she had to hear the desire in his voice. "_Little minx_."

Even with the lack of light in the room – the clouds hadn't dissipated, and if anything, it was raining harder than it had been earlier in the evening – he could see her flushed cheeks. Wine? Desire? Embarrassment? All of it?

Mimori flopped back on the bed, arching her back and stretching her arms out. He watched her movements, heard her back crack a few times, wondered why she'd put distance between them. Her hair was, for once, out of its ubiquitous ties, and as she laid on the bed looking at him, it fanned out around her head like a halo of black silk. Ryuho could feel desire welling up in him as she peeked out between her outstretched fingers, wearing her hands like a mask, smiling.

The bare parts of her shone like alabaster in the low light. Her shirt had lifted up, exposing a thin band of marble skin, and he couldn't help but lean down and kiss it, which made her giggle a bit. He smiled into her skin and kissed every inch of that little strip of bare belly, noting that she was particularly sensitive on the sides of her torso – every time his lips touched her there, she would try and squirm away from him, gasping for the effort of breathing while she tried not to laugh out loud.

He scraped his teeth against that apparently sensitive area, nipping and sucking, her wet flesh springing up with goose bumps. She squealed and kicked him gently in protest, and he stopped, making his way up to her. Propped on his elbows beside her, he couldn't believe how utterly beautiful she was as he looked at her.

"It _tickles_!" Ryuho couldn't help but kiss her, silencing her girlish giggle. _Is there _any_ part of her that isn't impossibly soft? _was the only thought his brain could manage as his tongue explored her mouth. She pushed back against him, matching him for intensity in her kisses as she wound her fingers through his hair.

He broke the kiss, running his eyes over her face, putting up a hand to touch her cheek. She closed her eyes, turning her head to kiss his palm. Her breathing was slow and regular, and he could feel her heart beat through her chest. He took her hand and kissed every finger in turn, then lavished kisses on her palm and the delicate skin of her wrist.

"Beautiful girl," Ryuho whispered down to her as he twined his fingers with hers, marveling at how small and delicate her hands were. Mimori tugged on his shirt with a hint of urgency, mouth parted ever so slightly. He taunted her, brushing her lips softly with his, flicking his tongue into her mouth occasionally. She arched her back, pushing up against his chest, balling the fabric of his shirt into her free hand; he tentatively slid a hand under her shirt, half expecting her to pull away from him. But Mimori simply became more insistent with her lips, and when a little growl escaped her mouth, he relented.

His hand roamed over her stomach, stroking every smooth curve and trying to commit it all to memory. She slowly untwined her fingers from his, and when she brought it up to trace every part of his face, he felt like he could lean into it forever, just feeling those little fingers running over his skin. She inhaled sharply when his hands reached the two semi-circles of thin wire, and he stopped; Ryuho looked up and realized that she looked a little frightened and incredibly shy. He jerked his hands away as if he had touched something hot, and she sat up a little bit.

Much to his surprise, Mimori pulled her shirt up over her head slowly, shivering a bit as a cold breeze came in through her half-open window. He couldn't believe this extraordinary beauty was so near to him, afraid to touch her for fear of breaking her. He settled her back onto the pillows, trying to kiss away any fear and nervousness. Tension was still running through her body, though, but as he kissed and nipped and sucked at her neck, he could feel her begin to relax, to ease into the warmth of his body.

It was a glorious feeling, having her underneath him, her hands tentatively stroking his shoulders or winding into his hair when he found a particularly sensitive spot. He nuzzled the edge of where bare skin ended and soft cotton began, tacitly asking permission to get rid of the impediment. She arched her back a little, allowing him to snake his hands behind her back and argue with the hook and clasps. Ryuho realized with a slight feeling of panic that they were both fumbling in the dark, figuratively and literally; he wanted to sooth her, but he wasn't sure how to put himself at ease, much less convince her to relax.

Mimori shrugged her shoulders, and the thin straps slid down her arms. His breath caught as she pulled the bra away, revealing breasts that were full and round. As if suddenly realizing that her upper body was bare of any material, her eyes widened and she brought her hands up to cover herself. He whispered in her ear as he slowly brought her hands away, anything he could think of that would make her understand that he was as unsure as she was. She let him take her hands away, but demanded his shirt in return. He thought it more than a fair trade.

Ryuho wasn't entirely sure what she was trying to hide; every bit of her that he could see was as perfect as he had imagined. Her nipples were pale pink rosebuds set among cream, and he set out to make her gasp and wiggle again. He teased her mercilessly, going from one to the other, coaxing her nipples into rising; Mimori pushed into him, gasping a little when he touched her _just so_. She hissed at him when he was a bit overzealous with his teeth, and he gave each breast plenty of soft kisses by way of apology.

She bucked her hips against him and he allowed her to roll him over, letting her settle in on top. She slowly and deliberately wiggled her body down his torso until she was settled right above his hip bones; leaning down, she caught his lips in her teeth, apparently deciding that it was her turn to play at being aggressor.

He could only watch as she explored every uncovered inch of him. She stroked every defined muscle with her hands, looked delighted when she elicited the same response from his nipples as he had gotten from hers, searched every inch until she found the spots that made him laugh. She sat up, and he could only look at her in wonder as she looked down at him. She'd always been so serious, with the exception of her proclivities for standing in rainstorms for fun and getting giddy over stars, that her playfulness caught him off guard. He wanted so desperately to make her _happy_, no matter what that entailed.

She smiled as she leaned forward again, her hair falling around them like a curtain. He tried to bring her lips back to his, but she was teasing him, coming so close they were almost touching and then darting away again, just ever so slightly out of his reach. _Positively maddening_. Mimori finally pressed into him, her lips demanding strong kisses, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer. She gasped into his mouth and stiffened as his fingers hit upon some particularly sensitive spot; a soft breath across her ear and teasing her earlobe with lips and teeth elicited a moan through gritted teeth.

Even as she moved against him in the most subtle of ways, Ryuho had to wonder if she was just wrapped up in the moment, or if she really did want him as badly as he had wanted her for years. She rolled off of him, lying on her side and looking at him with a gaze that he wasn't experienced enough to read. He propped himself up on one arm, pulling her close with the other, and decided that for now, all he was capable of doing was kissing her and committing the feeling of her body next to his to memory.

----

Mimori draped her arm around Ryuho, pulling herself closer to him. She nuzzled into his neck and tried to calm her mind down. Part of her wanted him – _all_ of him – in the most primal sort of way, but part of her felt that now wasn't the right time for all of this. She suddenly felt terribly shy, and she could feel exhaustion creeping around her now that the adrenaline had worn off.

"Is everything all right?" She moved a bit so she could look up at him after he whispered to her. He really was terribly handsome, she thought, about as perfect a man as Mimori could recall seeing – and she'd be content to stay right here next to him for the foreseeable future. He was watching her with a concerned gaze. She looked back a bit uncertainly, not entirely sure what to say.

"S'fine," she murmured, "I just, ah. I'm just not-" He silenced her with an exquisitely soft kiss, surprisingly chaste, and he shook his head at her when he pulled away ever so slightly. "You don't have to explain anything."

Mimori hesitated, looking into those ruby eyes and wondering what _he_ was thinking. "I just kind of want to stay like this for the rest of the night," she finally whispered. He shifted a little, sliding his arm underneath her head and nuzzling her hair. She burrowed in closer to him, pulling the blankets up a bit around them. She reached for her pendant as she ran her other hand up and down his back and sides slowly, astonished at how smooth his skin was.

She wasn't sure what any of this meant, or where it was going. The thought of what would happen next terrified her, and she wondered if she hadn't made some monumental blunder – it was _so very_ not like her to throw caution to the wind. _Well, you didn't entirely_, she told herself. Confusion was the order of the day, and she really just wanted to sit up and demand of Ryuho what he was planning next, what this meant, what about Scheris and Cougar and everything that had happened before? But that would involve moving and confrontation – and Mimori had no desire to move at the present, and she truly loathed confrontation. She hated upsetting people. She hated pressing them, arguing, rocking the boat.

She lay there, drowsy from wine and intoxicated on his body. She startled at Ryuho's quizzical voice intruding into her thoughts – "What was that?"

She realized with a bit of embarrassment that she must have been murmuring to herself again, as she was wont to do sometimes when she was alone with her thoughts. How many times had she paced around her room at HOLY in the silence of the Lost Ground nights, debating with herself, going from one position to another and back again?

"You were babbling, I just didn't catch what you said." Mimori was feeling so drowsy and heavy that it took her thirty seconds to process what he'd just said. She lifted her head to look at him, willing her mind to start functioning. She closed her eyes, not quite believing the effort it was taking to recall what she could've been saying. "Dunno, French?" was all she could manage by way of explanation. She could feel Ryuho's chest shaking just a bit with laughter.

"Scientist, rich girl, linguist; is there anything you can't do? When _did_ you pick up the odd fascination with language?" he asked her, and she registered by the soft tone of his voice that he must know she was very, very tired. She sighed, stretching her body out, pressing a little closer to him.

"Plenty of things. And it's not odd," she said with as much indignation as she could muster, which wasn't much. "I just like being able to think so that no one else can understand me. Well, there's you, but you don't count. Besides, your French is in awful shape." She was feeling very grumpy about being laughed at.

Ryuho scoffed, tightening his arms around her just a little bit more. "Whatever you say, _chérie_." "Knowing a few choice endearments does not a linguist make," Mimori mumbled. Her lids felt like lead. She could feel Ryuho smile, and he tenderly kissed the top of her head. Her body was whispering to _sleep_. She just wanted to get away from confusion for a while. As she let herself drift off, childhood memories of her mother's soothing voice echoed in her mind. Those endearments that were whispered so softly when Mimori was sick or woken up by nightmares, and all those terrible broken-hearted nights spent crying after they'd returned from the Lost Ground.

_Breathe, my darling. Sleep. Tomorrow it will be better, ma petite chérie. Tomorrow_.

----

Ryuho had woken up curled around Mimori, and it took him a while to process why he was in her bed, with a half naked girl wrapped in his arms. After extricating himself slowly as not to wake her, he'd crawled into the shower, then felt wholly unsure what to do _next_. He hated having no schedule, no rhyme or reason to the day. For the moment, he was pacing around the kitchen, coffee in hand, trying to focus on mundane things like _breakfast_ instead of really complex issues like _Mimori_. He stopped pacing long enough to open the refrigerator, snagging two eggs out of it. A plain omelet sounded doable right about now, before the morning jolt of caffeine had really kicked in.

Mimori. Ryuho wasn't entirely sure what had happened the night before, though he was fairly confident that he'd upset her, entirely unintentionally. When she'd gone so quiet, he was afraid that he'd _really_ upset her, though he'd felt a bit better when she'd mumbled so sweetly that she just wanted to stay burrowed next to him for the night. The furthest thing from his mind had been to push her into something that neither of them was ready for; he remembered with an inward wince the feeling of panic he'd had when he'd fully digested that _she_ was _half-naked_ next to _him_, and he had no idea what to do next. The whole thing was mortifying. Ryuho wasn't used to being unprepared for _anything_.

"Hey, is there any coffee left?" He turned towards Kazuma, who was stumbling into the kitchen half awake. "Enough for another cup, I'd think." Ryuho handed him a coffee cup from the cabinet. "Is Kanami still sleeping?"

Kazuma grunted at him, and Ryuho wasn't sure whether that was a yes or a no. "I was just wondering if she'd like an omelet or something for breakfast." "Since when are _you_ Mr. Domestic?" Kazuma snorted derisively. Ryuho could feel the anger building in the pit of his stomach. "She's been running after a bunch of barbarians since we got here, I figured maybe she'd like someone to make _her_ breakfast for once."

He and Kazuma stood facing each other in the kitchen, and Ryuho was pretty sure Kazuma was feeling as pissed off as he was. For all Mimori's talk of how _similar_ they were, Ryuho couldn't believe it, except for one thing – he had no doubt that Kazuma was as enraged by him as he was enraged by Kazuma. They'd avoided each other as much as possible for the past few weeks. Were it not for Kanami and Mimori, Ryuho was fairly certain they would've killed each other by now.

Kazuma broke the silence. "Is Mimori OK?" Ryuho's narrowed his eyes. "Of _course_ she's OK, what in the hell are you trying to-" Kazuma laughed, shaking his head.

"You _idiot_ – have you been so wrapped up in her for the past three weeks that you've totally missed the fact that she's been fucking _miserable_? Scheris and Cougar haven't laid off of her since you woke up and staggered out to her." Kazuma continued to shake his head, until he looked up at Ryuho with a look that was inviting Ryuho to disagree with him. "She's been miserable because _you_ haven't been fuckin' decent enough to face up to those two and admit what's going on. That's your job, not hers and you know Mimori – well, you _should_ know her well enough to realize that she'll do anything to keep the peace, even if it includes running herself ragged and keeping that pretty mouth shut when she really just wants to scream."

Ryuho was taken aback by what Kazuma was saying, not that he'd ever _admit that_ to Kazuma. He had assumed that Cougar and Scheris hadn't kept up with their incessant questioning, since she hadn't _said_ anything; then again, it would be just like Mimori to stay silent if she thought it would upset him …

"I'll take care of it, and she doesn't need you to speak for her," Ryuho said through clenched teeth. "Yeah, well, you better take care of it soon, before I fucking-"

"Kaza-kun? Kaza-kun, is there anything for breakfast?" Kanami came padding into the kitchen, breaking the stand off between the two men, and Ryuho couldn't help but shoot Kazuma an imperious look. "Oh! Ryuho-san, good morning." How anyone could be so bright in the morning without the aid of any sort of drug was a bit beyond Ryuho, but he smiled at Kanami, and brandished his spatula towards the skillet. "Omelet?" She smiled and nodded her head, and he slid the omelet onto a plate for her, the tension between him and Kazuma momentarily forgotten. Kazuma glowered at him, and Ryuho simply averted his gaze. They all looked up as they heard Mimori's voice, low and very angry, murmuring furiously.

"I mean, _honestly_, you'd think that I was trying to snatch away something that -" She shuffled into the kitchen, gasping with surprise when she saw that Kazuma, Kanami, and Ryuho were standing there, looking at her curiously.

"I, uh …" Mimori trailed off, looking at each of them in turn. "Coffee?" she inquired hopefully. "Nah, this bastard only made enough for himself," Kazuma jerked his head toward Ryuho, and Ryuho was ready to throttle him. "I'm sure Mr. Domestic will be happy to whip you up another pot, though."

Ryuho was seething. Mimori just looked confused, and Kanami turned to put another pot of coffee on. "Scheris called. They've found appropriate housing and some office building that's in nice shape. And Tachibana and Cammy have apparently been talking with some of the residents, trying to get some sort of meeting or something together." She smiled brightly – _too_ brightly, Ryuho thought – at everyone.

"That's good, Mimori-san. Does that mean we have to leave soon?" Kanami asked as she methodically worked her way through her breakfast. Mimori's smile faltered a bit. "I guess it does, Kanami. It's not as if we _have_ to stay together," Mimori began to wring her hands nervously, "But I feel so much better knowing you and your Kaza-kun are near." Kanami smiled up at Mimori, and the older girl visibly relaxed.

Kazuma ran a hand through his hair, leaning back against the counter and looking hard at Mimori. "Yeah, well. We'll see how all that goes. So what were you mumbling about earlier, anyways?" Ryuho was aghast at how blunt Kazuma could be, as if it was any of his business. Mimori blushed furiously.

"N- nothing. I was just upset at being woken up by my phone." Mimori grabbed the cup of coffee that Kanami held out for her, face getting redder by the second.

Kazuma quirked an eyebrow at her. "Whatever you say, Mimori. I think I'm going to get out of here for a bit and get some fresh air – Kanami, are you going to stay here or do you want to come with?" Kanami merely nodded, and flashed a smile at Mimori and Ryuho as she and Kazuma wandered out of the kitchen.

Ryuho was still shocked by what Kazuma had said to him, and he looked up at Mimori a bit disbelievingly, not even really noticing that she still beet red. "Mimori … is everything OK?" Mimori looked up at him, looking a bit concerned. "Everything's … fine, I just really didn't need to be woken up by my phone buzzing hysterically."

Ryuho knew he should say something to her, apologize for last night, ask about Cougar and Scheris. But all he could manage was to turn back to the skillet. "Omelet?"


	9. La terre qui est un astre

Still don't own Scryed, and so on & so forth. Lemon in this chapter.

_Earth that is a star_

Mimori leaned back in her chair, staring at the computer screen in front of her, finding it hard to believe that she was back in some semblance of a routine. The move had come incredibly fast – Tachibana and everyone else had come home, and two days later they were on their way back to the area right outside the City. Mimori's heart had fallen when she'd turned around and watched the beautiful green hills disappear into wasteland.

She slid her glasses onto her head and rubbed her forehead, eyes still adjusting to staring at a screen for several hours a day. She'd needed that break, she mused – though things had been strange between her and Ryuho since they'd wound up in bed. Both of them had backed off, Ryuho retreating back to a moderately frosty demeanor, Mimori feeling so shy that she couldn't even bring the subject up. She wasn't sure if Ryuho was upset with her, or just uncomfortable with the whole situation. Part of Mimori ached for the days before, when they could sit watching the stars and just being close to each other.

At least the base of operations Scheris and Cougar had selected – an older apartment building and a little office – was in working order. A bit shoddy, in Mimori's opinion, but workable. She'd stood in her new apartment after moving in, hands on hips, appraising the blank walls and peeling paint. _If Mama were here, she'd know exactly what to do with this_ _place_. The thought of her parents forced sharp pain into her temples, and Mimori was dreading going home in three days. She hadn't even talked to Ryuho about their impending trip. _Maybe I should just bring Cougar, at least then I wouldn't have to worry about having a miserable time_.

"Mimori?" She spun in her chair, turning to face Scheris. The younger girl smiled at her excitedly. "We have fabulous news!" "Fabulous … news? Of what?" Mimori wasn't feeling up to dealing with anyone at the present, and wondered what had possibly brought Scheris here. Something had changed the day Mimori had read Scheris the poem about the Grand Palais, but it had flip-flopped back just as quickly as soon as Scheris and Cougar had arrived back and discerned that _something_ serious had happened between Mimori and Ryuho.

"Well, you won't believe this, but your _father_ of all people called!" Mimori could feel the blood draining from her face, wondering what her father could've said to please Scheris. _Probably that he's going to lock me up on the Mainland after I go back_, Mimori thought sullenly. "And he said that he'd called in some favors from some associates, and there's going to be _oversight_ from other countries to make sure the Mainland behaves. Apparently, there was a huge uproar over human rights violations after …"

Mimori felt ready to vomit. Not only was she going to have to walk in like she had _some_ idea of what she was doing, she was going to be doing it on a little world stage. Hopefully there would be enough envoys from other countries to take the pressure off of her …. It didn't help that a lot of Inners were perplexed as to why _anyone_, much less a girl from the Mainland, had to go make polite overtures to their oppressors. The little meetings that Kazuma and Kanami were in charge of organizing had been upsetting for her – she felt like _she_ was on trial. "Why do we have to do this? Why can't we do that? What about this …." Mimori tried explaining that she understood the desire to just move on in peace and quiet, but the world just didn't _work_ that way. Kazuma was almost always there by her side, though, and managed to smooth things over. The people had no confidence in her, but if _Kazuma_ thought her ideas were right, well, they were willing to go along with it.

"Mimori? Did you get that? Hey, you're looking pretty ill, do you need to go home?"

"Yes, I got all of it, Scheris. I'm fine, I just need some fresh air, I think."

"Well, you realize it's past six – we were going to go grab some dinner, if you'd like to come. You've been sitting in front of that computer all day."

Mimori looked blankly at Scheris. She wasn't used to feeling like she was walking a fine line between sanity and madness, and she'd felt like that since they'd returned from the country. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm not really hungry. I'll be up on the roof if anyone needs me." Mimori gave a confused Scheris a weak smile as she got up and walked out.

Mimori pushed open the door to the stairwell. The buzzing noise coming from the light bulbs that lit the stairs grated on her nerves as she walked up the three flights to the roof. The tarmac on the roof was still sticky from the heat of the day, though the sun was starting to set and the first stars beginning to appear. The skyline, for all its abandoned or dilapidated buildings, was actually quite pretty in the wash of sunset colors. Mimori settled herself on the wide, low wall that surrounded the roof, looking down and watching the people street.

Children ran by with a stray dog yapping at their heels, laughing and teasing with their high, clear voices. The ran straight into an older woman who was apparently coming home from the market, loaded down with fresh produce, and she merely squawked at them like a mother hen. The little pack bowed politely, the woman chucked one of them fondly under the chin, and everyone continued on their merry way. Mimori had to smile when she noticed the littlest child was tagging along behind her companions, apparently playing at being a horse – she trotted forward with snappy knees, tossing her hair and breaking into a delicate little canter. It felt like so very, very long ago that _she_ had been a child, though Mimori supposed that she had never been as carefree as the children cavorting in the street below. Still ….

Scheris, Cougar, and Ryuho came out of the front door of the building, Scheris waved at her and Cougar looked up, calling– "Darling Miss Mimori! Are you SURE you don't need any food? Youwon'tbenearlysobeautifulifyoudiefromstarvATION!" Mimori laughed, shaking her head at Cougar. Despite his brashness, to say nothing of the sheer _speed_ with which he did things, he was really, truly a wonderful person in Mimori's eyes. She shook her head no. "Well, fine then. We'll be back soon, don't fall off the building when _I'm_ not around to save you." Even from 5 stories up, she could see the big wink he gave her, and for the first time that day (or had it been days?), Mimori really smiled. She never did doubt that if all else failed, Cougar would be there to help.

Ryuho lingered behind Scheris and Cougar, looking up at her. She caught his eyes for a moment, and then turned her head, not really wanting to see him right now. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head a little as if in thought and jog to catch up with Scheris and Cougar, who looked to be having a playful argument about something. Mimori sighed.

Even star watching held little appeal recently. Mimori just wanted to crawl into a hole and not come out for a few months. Everything was exacerbated by the lack of normalcy in the world, the lack of routine. Mimori just felt _lost_. She sat staring glumly at the street for what seemed like hours until she heard the door to the roof open. She turned and was pleased to see purple hair, not green or blue or orange or any other color, for that matter.

"Hey Mimori! Cammy and I ran into Scheris and them coming back from the market and she said you'd be up here." Tachibana smiled warmly at her as he walked over. "I know you're probably not hungry, but I brought you some food so you don't have to go out late." Mimori took the plastic bag Tachibana offered her, smiling as he sat down next to her. "Watching the stars again, eh?"

"No … it's sort of lost its appeal lately," she sighed and looked back up at the stars. "I guess that's a bit strange coming from me, huh?" Tachibana looked at her seriously. "Mimori, seriously, what's wrong? You haven't been acting like yourself – we're all worried."

Mimori closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I don't know, it's partially just that all the stress is getting to me. I mean, I should be able to handle it a little better at this point, and I'm rather irritated with myself that I've been so … so worried and scatterbrained and just _stressed_. There's too much going on. I hate feeling like there's all this responsibility on my shoulders and I'm going to do nothing but mess it all up."

"Mimori, I really don't think you're going to mess anything up. Besides," he said thoughtfully as he smiled at her, "it's not like you're _alone_. You have a lot of people who care about you." She looked at him glumly. "I hate to ask, but is everything all right between you and Ryuho?"

Mimori felt like a deer in the headlights, training startled eyes on Tachibana, who was looking down at the street while he talked. "I mean, it seemed like you two were actually, I don't know, _happy_ for a few weeks. And then after we got back from the city, you were downright chilly to each other. It just seems … strange."

She swallowed hard. Had it been that noticeable? Had _they_ been that noticeable before? Tachibana shrugged. "I know you don't like talking about it, but you might feel better if you got whatever it is off your chest. I'm sure Scheris and Cougar have driven you crazy the past couple of weeks."

Mimori cupped her chin thoughtfully, considering Tachibana's point. "Well …" she started slowly, "I don't know. Things have been strange? I mean, the night he first came out, I was furious and happy and upset all at once. I _never_ thought Ryuho would ever be _that_ open. You know how he is." Tachibana nodded. Mimori spread her hands out wide, flexing her fingers. "And then he was so sweet after that, he climbed out his window at night to come watch the stars with me. And I finally felt like I could talk about all sorts of things with someone. I've always felt comfortable with Kanami and Cammy and you, but …." Mimori was trying to figure out the right way to phrase it. "I guess it's just that our educations were really similar when we were little, so it's nice to have someone to talk about intellectual nonsense about. Does that sound silly? No, it does sound silly. Everyone else has been so diligent about working – and I've been lollygagging around, talking about poetry and literature and history."

"Now Mimori, you _know_ that isn't true. You've nearly killed yourself working since you _got_ to the Lost Ground." Tachibana's voice was tinged with concern.

Mimori continued. "And then the night that you all were gone, we argued a bit over some things going on in my family, and then he-" Mimori paused, trying to figure out how to phrase it well, "Well, I don't know what got into him, it was really strange." She looked over at Tachibana, whose eyes had narrowed in anger. "He didn't … he didn't _hurt you_, did he?"

It took Mimori a second to process what he was implying. "No – no no! Nothing like that, it was just a situation that neither of us was ready for. And I've been treading carefully ever since. I guess I should just deal with it and talk to him, but I feel like he's so far out of reach right now …." Mimori trailed off and looked up at the stars.

Tachibana sighed. "Well, you know, all of us are concerned about you. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know." Mimori smiled. "No, it's something I need to take care of myself, but it does make me feel better knowing … that there are perfectly uncomplicated people in my life. He's supposed to be coming with me to the Mainland, though. I suppose I should do something soon."

"Oh!" Tachibana exclaimed. "I meant to ask you if you could bring me back something for Cammy." Mimori cocked her head. "Something … like what?" Tachibana blushed. "Well, I'd like a nice bracelet or necklace or something. Her birthday is coming up, and that stuff is a little hard to find around here." Mimori couldn't help but smile. Tachibana really was so sweet.

"There's a nice little store near my parent's house, they have a lot of neat and unusual stuff. I'm sure I could find something she'd like. That is," Mimori laughed, "if you trust me enough to pick something out."

She and Tachibana sat out under the stars for a while, lightly bantering away. It occurred to Mimori that he was probably just keeping her talking in an attempt to lighten her mood, but it worked. Some weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

---

Ryuho stood outside Mimori's door for five minutes debating with himself. Cougar had given him a vicious tongue lashing after dinner, and while Ryuho had been angry, he knew Cougar was right. Mimori had been acting desperately unhappy since that night, and he knew that it was _his_ fault.

"You're lucky that girl hangs the sun, moon, and those damn beloved stars on you – and you know it. And goddammit, it's high time you start _appreciating_ it and stop fucking up left and right." Cougar's voice came drifting back to him. Ryuho swallowed hard and rapped the door in front of him lightly.

"S'open." She sounded tired and a little irritated. He opened the door tentatively, poking his head around the door. "Mind if I come in?" She was splayed on the couch, remote in one hand, other arm draped over her forehead. He was shocked at how _dull_ her eyes looked.

As soon as she saw him, she bolted upright. "Ryu – Ryuho. Is something wrong? I mean, of course you can come in." She stood up, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, I don't know where my manners have gone. Do you want coffee or something?" She walked towards the little kitchenette, not even looking in his direction. Ryuho stepped in, shutting the door behind him with a _click_, making sure it was locked.

"Uh – well, if you're going to make some anyways, I'd love a cup." Her apartment was neatly arranged, mismatched furniture and all. He sat down at one of the chairs around her little table and listened to her moving in the kitchen. He had to keep reminding himself to _breathe_, still not entirely sure why he was here, what he was going to say to her.

"Cream? Sugar?" Her voice drifted out to him, and he mused on how beautiful it was, so entirely fitting for the rest of her. "Black is fine, thank you."

He mused in silence until she reappeared, bearing two cups of coffee. Looking uncomfortable. And it was all because of him ….

"So." She set a cup down in front of him and settled herself in a chair across from them. "What's up?" Her eyes were shifting, not settling on him for more than a half second at a time. She looked incredibly nervous.

Ryuho felt the inner battle within him, the part of him that told him to simply gloss over everything, the other half that told him to get it over with, apologize, make her feel better. "I came to apologize." Her eyes registered surprise, but her voice was heavy with apprehension.

"Apologize for what?"

"For mishandling things. I didn't mean to upset you."

She looked confused, then blushed - he wanted to pick her up right then and there, lavish her with kisses – and opened her mouth a few times, obviously trying to decide how to respond. Her voice was soft and low when she finally managed to force words out. "I just assumed you were upset with me. I should've said something earlier, but you can be so …." She trailed off.

They sat and looked at each other over the table, and Ryuho wondered if there were thousands of unsaid words flitting around her brain like there were in his.

"Of _course_ I wasn't upset with you. Why _would_ I be upset with you?"

"I don't know, because I panicked? Because I … blew it, ruined the moment or whatever?" He looked at her in horror, realizing that she was so miserable because she'd been blaming _herself _for nothing. "I mean, what was I supposed to think?" She furrowed her brow as she looked at him and sighed. She diverted her gaze to her balcony. "You just went back to being frosty. I figured you'd realized you had made some huge mistake."

Ryuho didn't even know what to say.

"_Mistake?_ If there was any mistake, it was in making you uncomfortable. I never meant to upset you."

She turned to face him again. "Well you should've _said so_. It wouldn't kill you to be a little open occasionally, you know. It's not _always_ a sign of weakness." Her voice had an angry edge to it. Ryuho looked down at his coffee. She was right, of course. But to be free and open with anyone meant … it did mean weakness, allowing himself to become vulnerable.

"I just don't understand you, Ryuho, I really don't. Everything's been so hideously uncomfortable lately. I was so happy after you came to, I was _so happy_ to have the old you back and have someone to talk to." She set her jaw and looked at him morosely. "And then I figured I'd just been fooling myself when you went back to being your usual self."

It was Ryuho's turn to look cross. "Well, it isn't as if like we're not _both_ fumbling in the dark, my dear. I've handled things badly, but I thought you were upset with me. And I've upset you for so long, I hate the idea of upsetting you even more."

Mimori snorted. "Oh, right, because turning your back on me is a great way to let me down gently. If you're so disinterested, just say so." Ryuho sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Disinterested is the last thing to describe how I feel about you, and you damn well know it."

Mimori chewed on that statement for a bit, looking a bit surprised. "Well – well, it's not like you _show it_ frequently. Who knows, maybe I'm just another woman-" Ryuho grabbed her hand from across the table and cut her off. "Listen to me," he said, voice deadly serious. "_You're_ not just a woman. There have _been_ no other women. There will _be_ no other women." Mimori looked a little unsure, but she twined her fingers with his. "None?"

"Do you honestly believe I'd be so … _incompetent_ if there were others?" He wanted to kick himself as soon as he'd said it, but she merely laughed. "Mr. Tairen, I really don't think you've ever been _incompetent_ at anything."

He stood up and pulled her up close to him, and she willingly leaned into his body. "You're too kind. You always have been."

Mimori looked up at him, her eyes softening. "No, Ryuho. I'm not. A little soft-spoken, perhaps, but I really don't think there's anything as being _too kind_. Maybe I do forgive a little too easily," she paused as she looked up to him, "But life is too short to carry bitterness around, don't you think?" Ryuho tightened his arms around her, because he just wanted to hold her close to him forever - this girl who understood him better than he understood himself at times. No matter what it took.

---

Mimori wasn't entirely sure how they'd wound up in her bed, lying wrapped up in each other's arms, soft murmurs passing back and forth as they apologized to each other with kisses and the most exquisitely soft caresses. Clothes were slowly peeled off, and everything was moving so much slower than the last time.

She arched her back and nuzzled into her pillow, allowing Ryuho to lean down and plant kisses up and down her neck. She laughed as he hit a particularly ticklish spot. Pulling her hair out of the bands and tossing them on the side table, she looked up at him and sighed. "You're right, I do forgive too easily." Ryuho pulled back, looking at her perplexedly.

"I should've made you kow-tow and grovel," she teased. She rolled them both over so she was on top of him, and she ran her fingers up and down his sides, looking for his ticklish spots. "I _should_ have made you beg and plead, or go out and scream your apologies to the _entire_ Lost Ground. No – I should've made you promise me the moon and my stars." He tried to stifle a laugh as she hit a sensitive spot, but she heard him and exploited it mercilessly. She loved seeing him laugh. He'd smiled so rarely since they'd met again, and his laugh sounded like he was still getting used to _hearing_ himself be happy.

"Anything you want," Ryuho gasped at her, "_Anything_. Just _stop_, you're going to kill me." She laughed at that, but she did stop and lean forward over him, smiling. "I just want you," she replied simply. He seemed to be caught off guard by that, and he reached up to tuck some hair behind her ear. His eyes were searching hers, and Mimori was too riveted to look away. "You have me, so that doesn't count." He pulled her down for a kiss. She pulled away after a bit, ruffling his hair tenderly.

She sat up. "Do I, though?" Mimori frowned and looked out the window. He reached up and turned her head back down to him. "Do you what? Have me? I'm here right now, aren't I?" Mimori scowled at him, wrinkling her nose up at just how _dense_ men could be. "Physical presence isn't what I'm talking about."

"Then what _are_ you talking about, Miss Kiryu?"

Mimori sighed. "I'm not even sure myself, truthfully. I just don't want …." she looked down on her hands that were spread on his chest and took in a deep breath. "_Idon'twanttobetemporary_." She felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment.

Ryuho rolled her back over, confusion washing over his face as he ran his hand down her torso. "Temporary?"

Mimori blushed more furiously. "Well … yes. Temporary. You know, boy meets girl, boy gets bored with girl, boy finds new girl? I … I mean, we were so young when we met and parted. I know that there are … _others_ who know you better than I do." She smiled at Ryuho sadly. "It took me a long time to admit that to myself." She paused, mulling over her next few words.. "She'd die for you, you know."

Mimori closed her eyes again, not wanting to see the look on his face. "I mean," she said, trying to stop her voice from quivering, trying to concentrate on the strong muscles of his back beneath her hands. "What have I to offer? French poetry, some medical skills, social connections with the Mainland, which according to some aren't even useful and I shouldn't be bothering, some knowledge that became obsolete when you and Kazuma defeated Mujo. No alter. I'm a burden, really, when it comes down it. She _exists_ for you. She can _help_ you, she knows you."

"Mimori," he whispered to her as he sat up and pulled her with him. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder, still not able to look at him without bursting into tears. "Scheris is … she's my best friend, I suppose. But I think she feels like she owes me so much, and that's why she's the way she is." He was rocking her again, ever so slightly, like he had that first night. Mimori wondered if he realized he was even doing it. "I trust her entirely, I'd trust her to do just about anything I'd do myself. But you-" he paused, and Mimori felt his lips on her head as he rested against her, "You've always – _always_ – been the one I've been looking for. I've always tried to send you away to keep you safe. But you kept coming back, despite it all."

He turned her head and kissed her – Mimori was still amazed at how absolutely sweet and tender his kisses could be, it was _so_ unlike the persona he liked to present – and then continued, his voice fierce with emotion. "I've never had the slightest urge to possess Scheris like I've wanted to have _you_. I've never felt the slightest twinge when other men have paid her attention, but I've gone ballistic over the _idea_ that some other man wanted to be with you. You're everything that is good in me. You make me want to _be_ the person that you met when we were children."

"I love that you whisper French poetry under your breath in your dreamy moods when you watch the stars. I love how giving you are. I love that _you_ love who I used to be, and love who I could become." Mimori inhaled sharply, but he continued. "I love that I can quote you Omar Khayyam and you know who the fuck I'm quoting-" she had to laugh at this, and he laughed a bit with her. "I love every bit of you. I mean that. Every last bit." He leaned down, trailing kisses from her collarbones to her breasts.

"Ryuho," she breathed as he caught a nipple in his teeth, coaxing it into rising for him. "I wanted you so badly that night, but I-"

He shushed her, pressing his mouth against hers, flicking his tongue against her lips, settling her gently back on the bed. She brought her arms up and pulled him down tighter as she opened her mouth slightly. His tongue ravaged her mouth, and she couldn't believe the sensations he coaxed out of her. She'd felt those shudders days earlier, but now … she felt him pressing against her and pressed back harder. Instinct told her to pull him closer, guide him into that most hidden place; a more civilized part of her insisted that _now was not the time for all of it_.

They both fumbled with the buttons and zipper of her pants, and Mimori couldn't believe this desperate sense of urgency to get her clothes off and open herself to him – if only to feel herself against his bare skin. She lifted her hips up so that he could slide her pants down. Ryuho tossed them onto the growing pile of clothes, and Mimori nipped his lower lip as she reached down to unbuckle his belt and pull at the zipper and button of his jeans. He shuddered as she sucked his earlobe, and he slid out of his pants, laying his full self against her. She could feel his hardness pressing into her thigh for the first time. He caught her gaze, and Mimori was enraptured by the look of sheer desire she saw in his eyes. She noted his heavy breathing as he kissed her again.

Ryuho slid a thumb under the waistband of her cotton panties even as their tongues were engaged in a struggle for supremacy over her mouth. Before he could ease her underwear off, she slid her hand down his stomach, tentatively approaching his boxers, fingers creeping while they spread out and explored every ridge and dip of his muscles. He gasped into her mouth as her fingers met dense hair underneath the wide elastic band and he rose ever so slightly onto his knees.

It was like touching something that was unexpectedly hot – her fingers jerked back as soon as she felt the heat of skin that was surprisingly thin and soft, contrasted so strongly with the sheer hardness beneath. Slowly and tentatively she reached her hand back down, stroking his length softly. He pulled his boxers off in a swift motion as he tried to stifle a groan by pressing his teeth into her shoulder; her hand was pressed between layers of flesh – her thigh, his stomach – but she tightened it slightly, still surprised at how _this_ part of his skin felt, somewhere between astonishingly smooth and a little like velvet.

She was feeling a little bolder. Somehow, it didn't seem to matter right now that she hadn't a clue what to _do_ with him; she was fascinated by the responses she was getting out of him just with unsure touches. Light scratches with her fingernails on the inside of his thighs led to a little growl; encircling him led to feverish, hard kisses. She teased and cajoled, watching his movements with interest, surprised that he reacted so strongly to her.

Ryuho breathed across her ear as he nipped her earlobe gently between his teeth. She felt so sensitive all over, but this sent her over the edge. She gasped and wriggled beneath him, unsure of what this feeling building inside of her, torn between wanting it to stop and wanting him to fan the flames. He was merciless in exploiting it, and when she managed to pry her eyes open, she found him looking down at her, eyes full of desire and … pride?

Her breath hitched when he slid her underwear over her hips. She looked up at him, full of apprehension – he trailed kisses from her mouth to her ear, and whispered reassurances to her – she relaxed a little when she realized he wanted her as badly as she wanted him, but that he felt tonight was not right for … for everything.

He trailed a hand down her body, and Mimori tensed her thighs shut, suddenly feeling very, _very_ naked and very on display. "You're gorgeous, little minx" he whispered to her, "more than I ever imagined." He stroked her stomach, and snaked his hand down to that little patch of neatly groomed hair. Mimori pressed her thighs together further, not entirely willing to open herself up to him at the current moment; but his hand caressed her thighs and pleaded with her to relax just a little. She opened her eyes again, looking at him, and something told her that he was willing to wait as long as it took until she was ready; as she pulled him down for a kiss, she parted her legs the merest bit. Desire won out over shyness.

She knew she was soaking wet, or would be if she still had underwear on; as he ran his hand slowly over the most intimate part of her, she gasped involuntarily, entirely unused to the feeling of anyone touching her. She parted her legs a little further.

He stroked her for what seemed like ages, making her wriggle underneath him; when he slid a finger in, she cried out and raked her nails down his back. She kicked him involuntarily when he rubbed her too strongly, when he stroked that precious bundle of nerves too hard, asking him to be a little softer. He brought her to what she could only imagine were the heights of ecstasy and back again. She begged him to stop but wanted nothing more than for him to go on forever. He teased her, pulling back again and again, and she pushed her hips into him over and over, hoping he'd get the message. In desperation and an attempt to tease him as much as he was teasing her – to _kill him_ with desire - she reached down and grabbed him roughly, causing him to bite into her lip hard enough to draw blood.

Mimori concentrated on the salty-sweet taste of blood, the sharp pain, as it was the only thing that felt concrete. The sensations washing over her were too much to process, and she just lost herself to them. She couldn't imagine anything more glorious than this, this having him so close to her, if not actually within her – placing kisses over every part of him she could reach without disturbing their position of being twined around each other, legs thrown this way and that.

_His skin is so smooth_. That was all she felt capable of thinking about.

She wasn't even sure what she was murmuring to him at this point, calling out and crying. Words, syllables, wordless gasps and groans. She cried into his mouth, begging for release from this unbearable tension coiled low within her. He murmured into her neck after breaking from her lips, but the only thing she could hear was her heart thudding in her ears.

She arched her back and bit into her pillow to stifle her scream as sensations rocked her that she never thought possible. Ryuho bit into her shoulder as he reached his own climax, but she was far beyond the point of feeling pain. Her body was only willing to focus on one feeling, this feeling of release. She could feel all the tension flowing out of her, her muscles forcibly relaxing.

She didn't know how long they had been lying there, how long her nails had been dug into Ryuho's shoulder blade as he rested his head on her shoulder. How long they'd been panting in tandem. She cast a glance down to him, and sat up with a jerk when it registered that she'd drawn blood with her nails.

His voice was exhausted. "Wha – what's wrong?" Mimori hovered over him, pulling him back onto his side after he tried to roll over onto his back to see her better. "I hurt you," she whispered, noting the viciously red lines that ran from his shoulders down to his lower back. "I – I didn't mean to." Ryuho looked up at her and started to laugh, a tired laugh, to be sure – but a laugh nonetheless. He reached up and softly touched her shoulder, which was suddenly very sore and tender.

She looked down and saw the bluish-red circle of tooth marks marring her white skin. She looked at him in surprise. _When did that _…. He just pulled her back down next to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He kissed her forehead tenderly and she snuggled into him as she pulled the comforter up around them.

"Beautiful girl," he mumbled to her as he slowly stroked her hair. "Don't … leave," was all she could respond with as something cold gripped at her heart, the idea of this being yanked away from her, of him going away. "Ever."

"Never," he whispered to her. Mimori could do nothing but smile into the shoulder of this perfect boy as she let sleep overtake her_. Never._


	10. Chanson

Standard disclaimer, 'don't own it,' like every other chapter ….

_Song_

Ryuho poked at the soup in front of him, the noodles and few spare pieces of beef swirling around gently. It's not that he wasn't hungry, it was just that he hungered for something else … _someone_ else. He'd never imagined that she would have been that deliciously pale all over, that she would cry for him over and over again. That she would ever want him like _that_ as badly as he'd wanted her all those years. He wondered if she'd ever woken up in a dead sweat, dreaming of him. He'd dreamed of her like that, ever since she'd arrived at HOLD ….

"Er, Ryuho? Are you all right?" He looked up blankly, surprised by Scheris' voice. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head of Mimori. "Yes, of course. Just a little tired." _That was the understatement of the century_. He hadn't dared to touch Mimori like _that_ since that night two days before, but he'd been up late every night, tossing and turning without her by his side. He had thought of going to her little apartment, but he feared that he'd lose control. That he wouldn't be able to keep his desire in check. The idea of taking her roughly appealed to him on a very base level, but he was pretty sure that she'd be very, very upset with him in the morning, and he'd be furious with himself ….

"Tired, huh?" Scheris brought him back to reality once again, away from those impossibly creamy white thighs, those little gasps and utterances … _Oh for fuck's sake, Ryuho, knock it off_. He looked back up at Scheris. "Yeah. Tired. Been sleeping poorly. Stressed. You know." He wished he could lay it all out on the table for Scheris – though he was fairly confident she knew what was going on – he was tired of skirting the issue carefully.

She looked at him, eyes flitting over him in carefully studied ways. "Whatever you say, Ryuho." She wound the noodles of her soup around her chopsticks, slurping them up in a smooth motion. "So … why exactly is Mimori taking _you_ back to the Mainland with her?" He frowned, not sure how to answer the question because he wasn't entirely sure what the answer was. "I don't really know, actually." He looked up at her as he set his chopsticks down. "I suppose because I'm heir to the Ryu fortune. It's amazing how people act when you get a few rich people in a room together."

It felt odd to have to be so guarded with _Scheris_ of all people. They sat wedged in the corner of the noodle place, tiny two-top table the only thing between them besides the huge gulf that Ryuho _really_ didn't feel like bridging at the present. He truly wasn't sure what had possessed Mimori to ask him to come with her in the first place. He had an idea that his excuse to Scheris was probably a huge part of the reason she'd suggested it, but most of him didn't care. He just wanted to be close to her, and if that involved a flight to the Mainland and ridiculously boring diplomatic negotiations, so be it.

"Well, we'll see what happens. I felt better after Mimori's father called. I wonder if the Mainland will buy the idea of a council as governance …."

"I don't know. I mean, there's certainly historical precedence for this sort of situation. As much as I hate to say it," Ryuho paused as he sipped some broth, "the heinous acts of the Mainland against native alters will probably work in our favor at this point." Scheris leaned forward on her elbows. "No, it _does_ sound horrible, but you're right. I don't know, Ryuho," she looked down at her soup, "I just hope all of this works."

They walked back to the office building after paying their bill, bantering lightly. It made Ryuho's heart hurt to feel this absolute distance between them; he had known for a long time that Scheris felt _strongly_ about him, but it had been such a non-issue for years. Now, though …. As though from a distance, he heard himself ask Scheris if she needed help painting her apartment. She'd said something about it a few days before – matching Mimori's complaint about peeling paint and that ugly, industrial beige color – and Ryuho figured that it would be nice to spend a little time together. Scheris turned to him, eyes cast upwards at his face– absolutely adoring. He could kick himself for being such an ass.

"I'd love some help! Mimori already said she could bring back some decorating stuff from the Mainland, it's so depressing living in a place that is so _dull_." Ryuho had to laugh under his breath as the image of Mimori-the-pack-horse flashed into his mind. Scheris scowled and poked his shoulder. "What? It _is_." Ryuho looked down at her smiling. "No, it's not that, it's just that it seems like everyone wants something from the Mainland. I'm not sure we'll be able to fit all this stuff on one plane, much less _decorating supplies_."

Scheris narrowed her eyes at him in irritation (though Ryuho saw her trying not to smile) and threw the heavy glass door of the little office building open. "Well, I don't need a lot of stuff. Besides, she _offered_," Scheris said a bit huffily, "Although it'd be nice to do something about this place." She waved her hand around to the lobby as they walked towards the stairwell. Ryuho had to agree that it was perhaps even more depressing than the plain apartments, if for the mere fact that it was just hideously outdated and decrepit. Ugly wallpaper was peeling off in wide swaths and he had to wonder who in the world thought _teal_ and _orange_ were a good combination for the lobby of an office building.

As they walked up the stairs to the second floor, Scheris stopped suddenly. "_What_ is going on?" Ryuho heard loud, tinny piano music and mad giggling. He looked back at Scheris and shrugged his shoulders, though Ryuho could feel the anger rising in him as he heard Mimori's voice, nearly crying with laughter – "Cougar, _stop_. No, no, _stop_, I mean it!" Ryuho could only imagine what was going on and his eyes narrowed. He and Scheris peered carefully around the doorway.

Cougar was whirling Mimori around in circles, apparently trying to waltz. Scheris looked up at Ryuho, mouth agape. "What – what are they _doing_?" she whispered. Ryuho looked back down at her, just as surprised. "Well – it looks like Cougar's trying to dance and Mimori is just along for the ride."

"Cougar, Chopin is too fast to waltz to, much less try to waltz to in double time – you're making me dizzy! I can't – stop!" Mimori was red faced and laughing - it looked like she wasn't even trying to keep up any semblance of _actually_ waltzing, instead galloping along while Cougar whisked around the wide hallway.

"Too fast? _Too fast_? My dear Mimori, there is _no such thing_." "When it comes to actually dancing, there is!" "Dear girl, if you can't keep up with me, how did you ever keep up with a ballroom full of whirling rich people all night?"

"We don't _dance to Chopin_, Cougar!" She shrieked when her feet got caught up in his as the song ended and Cougar stopped suddenly. She went tumbling backwards, landing in a heap across the hallway. She leaned against the wall, laughing and panting and fanning herself with her hand. "Jesus, Cougar, remind me never to take you to a ball." She smiled up at Cougar, who was looking down at her with an amused expression.

Mimori gasped in surprise as she met Ryuho's astonished gaze, and she scrambled up the wall. Cougar turned around, shaking his head and laughing. "Back from lunch so soon? And I have yet to put Miss Mimori through her paces. Look at her, exhausted after mere minutes of dancing."

"You call _that_ dancing?" Scheris asked incredulously as she stepped carefully from behind the doorway. "Looks more like torture if you ask me."

Cougar and Scheris stood arguing over _torture_ versus _entertainment_. Mimori beamed up at Ryuho, still huffing and puffing. He smiled back at her, thinking she looked particularly lovely when she was flushed and happy. But she was prettier, he thought, when she was flushed and happy in _his_ arms.

---

Mimori fidgeted as the little puddle jumper plane taxied into the gate of Kyoto's airport. Her father had gotten permission to charter this little jet. Wrangling permission for Ryuho to come hadn't been much of an issue either, she'd gathered; nothing like the biggest fortune on the Lost Ground to pave the bureaucratic way. She hadn't been back to the Mainland since she'd left nearly two years ago, and she was extraordinarily nervous about seeing her parents again, to say nothing of all the old social acquaintances and school friends. Ryuho was leaning his head up against the window, eyes trained out on the horizon. Despite his family's position, he had never been to the Mainland – though, Mimori had mused, it's not like they had much _reason_ to go anywhere outside of the Lost Ground, their life had been quite comfortable. Still, it would be odd to be playing tour guide.

Mimori scrambled out of her seat as soon as the "Fasten seatbelt" sign went out. "You ready?" Ryuho looked up at her, expression puzzled. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?" She laughed a bit nervously and looked down at her feet. "I don't know … _I_ feel like I'm about to be thrown to the wolves and it's my family?" He handed her little bag up to her as he slid out of the seats and followed behind her.

Mimori could feel the nervousness growing stronger in the pit of her stomach. The flight hadn't been long, less than an hour, but it had given her plenty of time to think. And panic. And get more and more worried about what would happen after she stepped through that front door. "Well, if you're so nervous, why didn't we fly in later?" Mimori glanced at Ryuho over her shoulder. "Because I have a lot of extraneous errands that need to get done, and I wanted to have some time to just relax."

She felt very overwhelmed and confused as she led Ryuho through the terminal. Once upon a time, these throngs of people and hurried pace would seem absolutely normal. At this point, though, Mimori just sort of wanted to crawl under the nearest available object to get away from the noise and the crowds. There was a huge pack of people milling around at the exit, looking for rides and family members and taxis. Mimori stood up on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. Her mother said they'd be sending a car.

"Miss Mimori! Miss Mimori!" She turned, feeling relief washing over her as an older gentleman in a suit hurried towards her, waving his hand to make sure she saw him. "_Nobuo_!" It was all she could do not to throw himself into his arms. Mimori had never been sure exactly what Nobuo was _supposed_ to do around the Kiryu house, because it seemed like he did _everything_. "Mama didn't say they were sending _you_ to come get us!"

"Well, I couldn't trust the younger ones to come get you safely, now could I?" She immediately felt more at ease standing in the milling crowd. When she had gotten older, she'd realized how kind Nobuo Abe had always been to her when she was little and underfoot – precocious as she'd been – and he was always so very busy with everything relating to making the household run smoothly. He'd never let her get lost in the shuffle, though, not even when there was a cocktail party and formal dinner to plan or her father's business associates were coming _en masse_ to Kyoto for conferences and the like.

"Miss Mimori, you're looking quite well. I'm so glad you're home for a visit! The house hasn't been the same since you left." Nobuo looked up at Ryuho, and Mimori blushed – "Oh! My manners – this is-"

"Young Master Tairen, who doesn't look quite so young anymore." Nobuo bowed deeply to Ryuho.

"Do you have more luggage, Miss Mimori, or shall we head home?" Mimori could only nod, butterflies once again making her stomach roll into knots.

---

Ryuho watched with interest as the landscape slid by. Mimori was chatting nervously with Nobuo in the front seat of the large car, and since Ryuho wasn't going to rudely butt in on the conversation, he simply watched the world outside intently instead.

High rises and ultra-modern buildings gave way to smaller, older buildings that looked a little decrepit, almost like they'd be at home in the Lost Gound. They turned off the highway onto the streets below, and Ryuho was surprised by the contrast this area showed to the sleeker, ultra-modern buildings they saw before – wide boulevards and grand European-style buildings, well manicured little parks and rows and rows of trees.

"They wanted it to look like one of the old European cities. It's all pretty new, in the grand scheme of things. Still, it's a bit strange." He looked away from the window to Mimori, who was looking at him from the front seat. He looked back out the window as the turned onto a narrower side street.

"Well, it's very … elegant. It's been years since I've seen so much green that was so well maintained." His mother had loved pretty gardens and had meticulously planned the landscaping around their house; it was such a contrast from the rather bleak surroundings of HOLD and even worse, the _rest_ of the Lost Ground where most people lived. The ordered beauty of well-planned gardens appealed to him more than the wildness of untouched countryside ….

Ryuho looked up as they pulled through high wrought iron gates up into a wide semi-circular drive; a red brick house loomed over them, stately and huge. _She'd left all this behind without a second thought?_ Mimori turned to him, frightened smile pasted on, and asked if he was ready? "Yes, of course."

"Miss Mimori, I do believe your mother is out in the back. Your father should be arriving home later this afternoon. I'll talk these bags up to your rooms?" Nobuo shut the trunk of the car, and looked at Mimori with concern etched on his face. "Miss Mimori, don't look so nervous - everyone is thrilled to have you home for a little bit. Even Mouko and Hisui seem to be excited."

"Thank you, Nobuo – I think we'll just go around back and see Mama, if that's all right?"

Ryuho looked up and studied the house while Mimori and Nobuo talked for a little longer, something about tea – Mimori was insisting that they'd be fine, as she didn't want to bother anyone, _what a surprise_ – and he was surprised at just how _big_ it was. Elegantly proportioned, to be sure, perfectly symmetrical façade, perhaps even _understated_ for something of its size – but it seemed so out of place in comparison to those sleek buildings they had seen earlier. _No_, Ryuho thought, _this whole area seems out of place_. Like a throw back to old neighborhoods in London or Paris or something …

"It's a bit over the top, isn't it?" Mimori looked up at him, smiling a little. "Wait until you see the back of the house and the gardens."

Ryuho looked down at her as they walked towards the red brick wall that was the entrance to the rest of the grounds. "So … why does your family live in Kyoto and not Tokyo?"

"Mama's family is from Kyoto. We keep a house – well, big apartment – in Tokyo, but she isn't very fond of the city, not even here, and insisted on having something like this. Father goes back on business pretty often, but Kyoto has always been _home_. Mama has grounds and gardens and things to fuss over out here, I always had room to run and play outside. Nobuo says," Mimori turned to him as she opened the gate, little smile on her lips, "that she's gone crazy over her gardens since I left, now that she feels like there's nothing else to do."

Ryuho felt a small pang, thinking about _his_ mother's gardens. They walked quietly around the side of the house, which felt like it went on forever, Ryuho admiring the wide lanes and little plots of flowers and plants that were scattered here and there, obviously _very_ carefully planned out in elaborate patterns. It looked like the "lawn" petered out into wood eventually, but Ryuho understood what Mimori had meant when she had told him to wait until he saw the back of the house. Not only did the house seem like it went on forever, the lawn _certainly_ seemed to go along forever.

He found himself standing on a flagstone patio, little table and chairs set out away from the sun. Mimori pursed her lips, looking around and murmuring, "Now, where could she have gone …" Two streaking flashes coming out of the woods caught Ryuho's eye. Mimori turned as well, and Ryuho watched as her eyes light up. "Mouko! Hisui! Here – _bébés_!"

_Greyhounds_. He had no idea Mimori had a dog – two of them, actually, that were skimming the ground in tandem, heading straight for her. She'd never said anything before about having dogs …. She dropped to her knees, arms spread wide, absolutely _beaming_. Both dogs unceremoniously launched into her, knocking her backwards, but she just laughed and laughed and laughed as there was a flurry of wagging tails and dog tongues licking her face. She struggled to sit up, still petting and caressing, talking to both dogs in silly tones, lavishing pet names and nonsense lines of love on them.

"I didn't know you had dogs," he said when she finally looked up at him, smiling practically from ear to ear. Mimori threw her arms around the bigger of the two. "A friend of Mother's brought them back from America with her when they were puppies. It was two or three years after we came home from the Lost Ground." She put an arm over the shoulders of the littler one, who was looking up at Ryuho curiously. "She told Mama that I was lonely, I worked too hard, and needed some company, and that's why she brought them back with her."

"This is Mouko," she patted the big dark brindle dog, whose back came nearly to her hip as she stood up, "And that's Hisui." Ryuho put his hand out for the red and white female to sniff – she looked a lot more delicate than Mouko, though they were both long-legged and lean. She immediately leaned herself up against Ryuho's legs, and he reached down to stroke her smooth coat while he watched Mimori as she got back down on the ground to hug Mouko some more.

"It's just like Mimori to come see her dogs before her mother."

Ryuho turned around, and came face to face with Mrs. Kiryu – looking a few years older, but almost just as he remembered her from when the Kiryu family lived on the Lost Ground. She smiled up at Ryuho, and it wasn't hard to see where Mimori's beauty had come from. Pale skin, the same dark hair and big eyes …

"Mama, Nobuo said you'd be back here." Mimori stood up and brushed herself off. "Was the flight OK, my darling?" Mrs. Kiryu tenderly brushed some stray hairs out of Mimori's face. "Fine, Mama. I was glad to see Nobuo, though." She smiled at her mother, who did look a little uncertain – almost like she was seeing a ghost.

"And this must be Ryuho. You've grown quite a bit since I last saw you." Mrs. Kiryu cocked her head and studied his face. "Well, I hope you'll find everything here to your liking. Oh – here's the tea." Mimori sighed. "I told Nobuo that we didn't need …"

"Darling girl, one day you'll understand that your mere presence isn't an impediment to everyone else, and further, asking for _tea_, of all things, is generally not an inconvenience, especially not when one has honored guests with you." Mrs. Kiryu kissed Mimori's cheek; Mimori could only blush furiously. Turning towards Ryuho, Mrs. Kiryu gestured towards the little table. "Tea, dear?"

---

Mimori was feeling slightly better than she had upon arrival, now that her dogs were padding along comfortably beside her and her mother was obviously thrilled to have her home for a little while. She was nervous about seeing her father again, but her mother had insisted that she and Ryuho go run errands and then have dinner – "There will be more than enough time to see your father, dear, perhaps we can all have a glass of scotch this evening" – so she had a few hours respite.

She wandered down the wide hallway to Ryuho's guest room, slowly taking everything in. The carpet, the walls, the elaborate plaster ceilings that her mother had picked out from some books on old architecture. It was a little hard to believe that this had been her life for so long, that she had run up and down these halls when she was very little. She had always liked the upstairs of the house better than the downstairs, though the parts of the house intended for public uses were more impressive, she supposed. But she had to stop and look at some of the family photographs that were framed and hanging on the walls, tracing her fingers over the glass of a few.

Mimori, aged 4 and wearing a fluffy party dress, apparently thrilled beyond belief to be sitting on a small and very fuzzy pony - someone's birthday party, though she couldn't remember whose. Someone on the fast track to political success or a prized position at the top of the social milieu at this point, probably. There she was, a little older, standing among her mother's rose beds while her mother looked up at her, frozen in a laugh. They both looked happy. Mimori wondered when her mother had last laughed like that. Mimori at 15, formally posed with Mouko and Hisui, both awkward puppies (_funny, thinking of greyhounds as going through an _awkward _phase_). 3 years later in her academic gown with her parents after receiving her graduate degree, Nobuo smiling in the background and chatting with someone.

She couldn't help but reach out and touch that last one – it seemed like so very, very long ago. She was squinting into the camera a bit, though her smile was genuine and true. School had been miserable for her, though she _had_ been very, very good at it. It was hard to explain to people who were impressed with her intellect that no, it isn't really much fun to fly through your undergraduate and graduate career at an age where most people are worried about what _high school_ they'll be going to. She wondered what her life would be like if she hadn't insisted on starting an accelerated program – if her parents hadn't agreed ….

She tore herself away from the wall of photographs when she heard a door open. Ryuho peered out at her a little suspiciously, though his expression lightened when he saw it was her. "Oh, Ryuho. I was just coming to get you, but I got a little distracted by photographs." She threw a last glance at her life as displayed on the walls, and looked back at Ryuho. "Want to come run errands with me? I was going to take the dogs, and Mama suggested we go get dinner, too."

Ryuho patted Hisui as he stepped out of his room and closed the door behind him. "They're really beautiful, you know," he said, looking down at the dogs. "They're wonderful. Well, terrible guard dogs," she said with a laugh, "but I've missed them so much. Shall we?"

When they got to the main hall, Mimori rummaged for the dogs' leashes and martingale collars in one of the sideboards. "I don't think anyone really walks them now that I'm gone. I mean, not that they don't have enough room to run, but I think they like going out," she explained to Ryuho, who was examining one of the antique prints that hung on the wall. "Of course they do," he replied. "Why didn't you ever mention you had dogs?" Mimori slid the collars on Hisui and Mouko. "I don't know, it's never seemed like an important thing to mention. Who cares about the pets I miss on the Mainland, you know?"

Ryuho quirked an eyebrow at her, apparently readying himself to say something when Nobuo stepped into the entryway from one of the side parlors. "Oh, Miss Mimori. Your mother told me to give you this. She also made reservations at that little café down from the tailors, and told them that Hisui and Mouko would be accompanying you two." Mimori smiled at Nobuo and took the envelope from him, feeling that it was money. She stuffed it into her purse.

"They won't mind? Hisui and Mouko, I mean."

"Of course not, Miss Mimori. The weather's nice, the dogs are better behaved than most children, and we reserved a table on the patio for you, six o'clock sharp." Mimori giggled a bit – Nobuo was right, of course, the dogs had been accompanying Mimori practically everywhere since she'd gotten them. They _were_ better behaved that most kids.

"Thank you, Nobuo. We'll be back, oh, I don't know, seven? Seven thirty? Have the scotch ready, I guess. I have a feeling I'll need a drink after seeing Daddy." She was only half kidding, but Nobuo laughed lightly nonetheless. "Naturally. Enjoy yourselves, we'll be waiting for your return."

Mimori breathed a sigh of relief as they hit the main sidewalk. "Well, let's see. It's what, a little after 4 o'clock?" she asked Ryuho, looking down at her watch. "And we have dinner reservations at 6. Nothing fancy, so we can afford to be a little late, though I hate doing that. And I need to go to the jewelry store for Tachibana, the home design place – though maybe that can wait until Mama can come with me, I've never been any good at that stuff – and what else?" She was mentally checking off her list of things to do. "Oh yes, the tailor." Ryuho was nodding along as she talked.

"Mama apparently forgot to mention that there's a ball this weekend, Saturday night. I couldn't get out of her exactly what it's for, but she requested our presence, which means we have to get _you_ something to wear."

"Don't you usually _ask_ people if they want to go to those sorts of things?" Ryuho asked as he took Mouko's leash from her. Mimori opened her mouth a few times, feeling the heat in her cheeks.

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry. I just assumed … how stupid of me …" She looked down at Hisui's little head. Ryuho nudged her. "Don't be silly, of course I'll come. I apologize for a rather lame attempt at humor."

"Oh – oh. No, I'm just feeling a bit on edge. The thought of seeing my father is not particularly appealing at the present, to say nothing of tomorrow and the day after. Here, why don't we take a detour through the park?"

For the first time in ages, Mimori felt very grown up, strolling along the wide walk with her dogs and Ryuho by her side. She pointed out her favorite little spots, mostly used for studying, she was embarrassed to confide, but Ryuho merely smiled down at her. They people-watched, Mimori glad that they hadn't run into any of her family's acquaintances yet (_or worse, people from school_). At one point, Ryuho elbowed her, jerking his head twords two younger girls who were sitting on a bench, giggling and whispering to each other as the tried to subtly point towards Ryuho. Most teenagers being pretty low on subtlety, they failed terribly.

"What – what are they laughing at?" Mimori looked up at Ryuho, who was looking around uncomfortably. She looked at the girls, 13 or 14 at most. She smiled at him as they strolled closer to the bench where the girls were sitting, while Ryuho stared forward stiffly. "They think you're cute," she whispered at him. Ryuho reddened. "And they're not laughing _at_ you, they're giggling because that's what schoolgirls do." She saw Ryuho flick his eyes towards them as they walked by, and they giggled even harder.

"Really? Don't they have anything better to do?"

Mimori laughed. "They're young with no worries. I mean, not that I would know from personal experience, but most girls start early on their husband catching around here." Ryuho looked at her in confusion.

"But they're … they're _young_. They can't possibly be worried about getting _married_. Especially not to a stranger."

Mimori sighed in exasperation. "Of course they're not _actually_ worried about it, Ryuho, nor would they consider a _stranger_ as an actual marriage candidate, but that doesn't stop them from looking at boys and dreaming." Ryuho looked like he was considering her statement. "Did you ever do that?"

"Do what? Daydream about boys? Sit on a bench in the park with my friends and giggle? No." Mimori felt stiff now, uncomfortable. _And a little bitter _… "No time. For any of that." She didn't want to talk about it, and set her mouth in a hard line. "Mimori …."

With relief, she saw that the jewelry store was right across the street. "Oh good, we're here! I'm still not sure what to get for Cammy, but I suppose we'll find something …." Ryuho was still looking at her with an odd expression on his face, but followed her dutifully into the cool interior of the store. For once in her life, Mimori was glad to be shopping. She certainly wasn't up to pouring out her thoughts about her life since leaving the Lost Ground.

---

Ryuho looked at Mimori from across the café table as she shoveled down her salad. The dogs were passed out under the table, and they had the little courtyard all to themselves, save the waiter that appeared occasionally to fawn all over Mimori and attend to their every need. He was amazed at how unconcerned she could be about decorum at times. It seemed so un-Mimori like. While she was trying to subtly lick dressing off her fingers – luckily, Ryuho thought, there was no one else around to see the Kiryu heir behaving like a heathen – she looked up at him.

"Sorry. I've missed the food here. These salads are my favorite." She took another big forkful of spinach and tomatoes. "You think Cammy will like her bracelet? It looks like it will be small enough?"

"I can't imagine that she wouldn't. At the very least, she'll be proud to have something no one else does."

"Well, I hope she likes it. Maybe I'll go back before we leave, I debated between the bracelet and that little necklace that matched it. Maybe I'll just get both. Tachibana can always put one away for some later time." Mimori pursed her lips, thinking. "Well, we'll see. Do you like your coat? It reminds me a bit of your uniform."

Mimori had obviously been delighted with the coat the tailor had suggested for Ryuho. It was remarkably similar in cut to his old uniform, but plainer in color. Mimori had thought that the midnight blue cloth and gold trim had been "delicious," in her words, but the tailor had suggested black with red trim and red lining, to match Ryuho's eyes. Ryuho hadn't really cared one way or another, seeing as he had little say in the matter, but she had agreed wholeheartedly.

"As long as it's fine with you, it's fine with me. I assume I won't humiliate you, and that's all that really matters."

"No, no, Mama said it was formal, but not white tie. No need to get you a tailcoat. Hm, I suppose you'll need boots, as well … I wonder if we could send out for those."

Mimori smiled beatifically up at the waiter when he appeared with their entrées. The waiter hovered some more, before Ryuho finally leveled an unimpressed gaze at him and the waiter went back from whence he came.

She seemed so nervous. He had so much he wanted to ask her about her life on the Mainland, about growing up here, but he was afraid she'd really shut down in a panic. She was chattering about boots and jewelry and dogs, and she paused mid-sentence to look at him and smile. He smiled back. It was going to be a long weekend.


	11. Quel jour sommes nous

I don't own Scryed. Don't sue.

_What day are we_

Mimori leaned back in the wrought iron chair on the patio, glad to have a little peace and quiet.

Things had gone far, far better with her father than she could've imagined – partially because Ryuho was there, she had no doubt, her father wasn't going to become embroiled in some heated family argument with the Ryu heir present. Appearances were practically everything to him, one reason he was so infuriated by her decision to stay in the Lost Ground – "A daughter of the Kiryu family, the _sole heir_, at that – acting like an Inner! My dear, have you _any idea_ what people are saying?" – but it could occasionally work in Mimori's favor.

Best not to worry about it now. Sitting here, watching her dogs skim around the lawn – it never failed to amaze her how connected they seemed, darting this way and that in perfect harmony – she was feeling a little less tense. One hurdle was over and done with. Tomorrow would come the great test, but her father was reassuring on that front, at least. It was odd, considering he had been the main funding behind HOLD … although, it would be hard not backpedal from an untenable position in the face of all the horrors that had come along with HOLD and Mujo.

Mimori snuggled a little deeper into the cushions of the chair, looking up to the sky – not that you could see many stars here on the Mainland. Mouko spotted a squirrel and took off like a rocket, Hisui following close behind. "Darling, what are you doing up? It's late, and you have to get up early."

Mimori turned as she heard her mother's voice. "Can't sleep."

Mrs. Kiryu set down a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table. "Well, let's have a glass of wine. If that doesn't do the trick, perhaps I can sing you a bedtime song or two." Mimori smiled and looked at her mother out of the corner of her eye. She really was lovely, poised and always _so_ elegant. Mimori wondered if she'd ever measure up to her mother in a number of regards. "Did you and Ryuho have a nice time this afternoon?"

Mimori sighed. "I suppose. It's odd being home, and I'm positive he's a little uncomfortable. There were two schoolgirls in the park today, giggling about how cute he was – I think he was convinced they were laughing at him, as if two 13 year old schoolgirls in Kyoto have any idea what it means to be an alter user or an _Inner_. I know _I'm_ uncomfortable. I had the greatest fear of running into someone I knew while we were out … other than that, it was fine. We need to go to that little decorating store sometime before I leave. You should just _see_ where we live and work, you'd be appalled, I almost wish I could put you on a plane and bring you to the Lost Ground for a week to help us fix it all up."

Mrs. Kiryu laughed as she poured them a glass of wine each. "I don't see why not, it might even be fun. I've been dreadfully bored around here."

"That's what Nobuo said … rather, he said that's why the gardens are looking so neat and orderly. They _do_ look good, Mama." Mimori took a sip of her wine as she looked out at the clusters of beds here and there.

"Mmm, they still need a lot of work. I went with a European theme, a French bed there, an Italian bed there, an English one in the back – you know how they like that unkempt look, I put those near the woods." Mrs. Kiryu wrinkled her nose in distaste and took a drink. "So … Ryuho seems like he's grown into a fine young man. I was surprised when you told me he'd be coming back with you, considering what you said after you first arrived in the Lost Grounds …"

The both looked out to the wide expanse of lawn in silence as the dogs came flying back towards them, chasing some phantom creature. "Well … things have … changed. Since Mujo was defeated and all that. I don't know, Mama. It's nice sometimes, it's terrible at others – I … I almost wish that we could go back to before sometimes, just because I always knew how he was going to respond."

She glanced over at her mother, who was looking up at the sky, apparently deep in thought. "Mimori, it's the difficult ones that are worth it, in general. You're ambitious. A touch aggressive … well, more than a touch, you just hide it extremely well, I don't think _you_ know how driven you are. You don't want to settle. I know your father upset you with his talk about Ito's son, and I really could have murdered him for it. Do you want to know something funny?" Mrs. Kiryu smiled a secret smile, a bit happy and sad all at once. Mimori nodded her head curiously.

"We – well, no, your fathers – talked of arranging a marriage between you two when we were living on the Lost Ground." Mrs. Kiryu looked down at her wine glass, smiling and shaking her head at the memory. "I mean, can you fathom? No, no, of course you can't, you didn't grow up thinking in terms like that … But a marriage between one of the most powerful families on the Mainland and the biggest fortune of the Lost Ground? It would've been a coup for the Ryu and Kiryu families both, like the old dynastic matches of the Europeans, uniting two families and two territories. It's so funny – funny and sad – looking back at it now, considering present circumstances."

Mimori sucked in a sharp breath. _What a strange thought_ …. "Why didn't you?"

Mrs. Kiryu looked knowingly at Mimori and poured herself a little more wine. "Keika, Ryuho's mother, and I thought it was a silly idea. Well, I think the whole concept of arranged marriages in this day and age is ridiculous- " Mimori could hear Ryuho's enraged voice growling _Are we living in the eighteenth century_? "Which is why I never intended on allowing your father to move forward with any serious negotiations with the Itos, I've been staving that off for years, darling. But she and I thought that binding you two together at the age of eleven and twelve was _most_ unwise, even though you were like two peas in a pod. I do think Keika was quite correct. I see a lot of her in Ryuho …. I can only imagine what would have happened if we'd had some iron-clad agreement in place, after … after his mother died. I wonder if he would've been any nicer if there had been marriage looming when you arrived …."

Mimori could've burst into laughter at the idea. "Mama, it was so terrible when I first arrived. I can only imagine how much worse it would've been if we'd had a marriage agreement hanging over our head. _He_ was so terrible – you know, he took me out just so he could insist on me returning home? And telling me to forget about our childhood, that I wasn't important to him and he didn't care?" Mimori had to laugh so she wouldn't cry, just remembering it.

"Oh, Mama, it was dreadful." She could feel tears welling up. "_Awful_. It was better after he got amnesia, he was _much_ nicer, but it was still – well, it wasn't saying much, considering how far he had to go …. And then – then he and Kazuma got into a terrible fight after they defeated Mujo, and Ryuho was literally passed out for a week. And he came to, and there I was, outside watching stars – the stars are so much more beautiful than they are here, I have to say, I'm sure you remember that, though – and he staggered out to me and … and it was terrible and wonderful all at once. I had no idea where this Ryuho had come from, he was so free and open and apologetic. And I wanted to hug him, and I really wanted to hit him for being so _stupid _for all those long months, but I didn't" she confided, realizing her mother was gazing at her with interest. "What am I saying?" Mimori stopped suddenly. She wasn't sure she had ever talked to her mother like this.

"Beautiful girl." Her mother smiled at her. "You can tell by the way he watches you that he adores you whole heartedly. I suppose that was one great mistake we made when we allowed you to plunge ahead with your schooling, you never had those years that most girls do. You don't _know_ all those incidental things that most girls your age find to be old hat … Apparently you did learn that dogged persistence can pay off occasionally." Mimori's mother reached out to run a hand over Mimori's hair. "There's time enough to talk about all that, though." They sat there quietly for a few minutes.

Mouko came trotting up to her, and Mimori draped an arm on him as she stroked his side. "I think you should take them back with you." Mimori looked over at her mother in surprise. "Mouko and Hisui?" Her mother nodded. "I'm sure your father would rather send you home with a Malinois or a Doberman, but I think they'd be happier with you. After you left, they would wait by your bedroom door every night for, oh, six months? All day and all night. Just _knowing_ you would come home."

Mimori looked down at the brindle head she knew so well. "I don't know. I mean, I'd love to have them with me, but do you think they'd be happy in a little apartment?"

"I think they'd be happy anywhere you are. I believe you'll find that there are more people like that in your life than you can imagine, but just like Hisui and Mouko, they can't or won't say so."

Mimori looked up at her mother, trying to understand exactly what she was saying. Her mother patted her thigh, smiling knowingly. "Don't worry about it darling. Just think about it, won't you?"


	12. Nous sommes tous les jours Mon ami

_We are every day/My friend_

Ryuho stood in front of the mirror in his temporary bedroom, smoothing out the fabric of his coat. It was strange to be back in something that resembled his uniform, if only in the cut. He felt a bit like a harbinger of death, clad as he was mostly in black. Mimori had insisted that he looked dashing (he'd noted with interest that she had slid back into the role of society girl fairly easily; he'd never imagine her as the type to use a word like _dashing_ in reference to the way a man was dressed), that the whole thing was very elegant and understated. And she was _mad_ for the beautiful calfskin boots of exquisitely thin leather, too thin to be practical. She'd said that with a dramatic flourish, and he'd been shocked that Mimori was talking like a woman who _cared_ about things like that. Ryuho did have to admit that he liked them, too, even if they were only good for walking on well-manicured lawns and highly polished floors.

He'd been far removed from this life of balls and parties for so long that it seemed almost entirely alien him to him, though his sense of decorum was, as always, strong – no one would ever accuse _him_ of being rude in a social situation, making some terrible faux pas – but he guessed that it still seemed very normal to Mimori. She'd certainly given the socialite queen bees who drifted in with rather alarming frequency the past few days to call on her mother and stare at Mimori over their tea a run for their money. She was always so focused on _serious things_ that it surprised him to observe her call the tailor, call the boot maker, talk to the insufferable rich women about things they'd understand. Furniture, houses, decorating, children, landscaping; dilettante interests in painting and music. Notably absent was any discussion of the Lost Ground or current affairs (or anything that mattered, really); she mentioned Ryuho's background only so far as to state simply that he was the Ryu heir, which usually made the women's eyes get wide as they tried to stifle a gasp, having assumed that he was some sort of Lost Grounds ruffian. Well, that's what Ryuho figured they thought.

Her ability to switch gears was nothing if not amazing. He'd been so proud of her when they'd met with Mainland officials and representatives from other countries. She'd told him before they'd entered the huge meeting room with it's impossibly large round table that she was ready to throw up, but she'd composed her face and walked in, ready to drive a hard bargain. They hadn't had to do much – it was mostly other countries arguing with the Mainland over atrocious human rights violations that had happened on the Lost Ground, mostly other countries doing the talking and negotiating. Mimori had told him that this hadn't surprised her, and that she was relieved – _very_ relieved.

Still, things were looking up a bit. No one had quite established _what_ the Lost Ground technically was – the Mainland insisting that it was a renegade prefecture, others throwing around historical references like Hong Kong. But it had been decided that the Lost Ground would be it's own entity, controlled by its residents, with appropriate international oversight. A little victory. Better than a big defeat.

Deciding that he was looking as good as he was going to, Ryuho walked into the hallway after making sure his kid gloves were tucked safely away so he wouldn't forget them. The late afternoon sun slanted in the windows, casting dappled shadows on the wall. He looked down the hall, all the framed images marching neatly to the big double doors that closed off this wing from the rest of the house. He hadn't studied the photographs hanging on the walls yet, and after checking his watch, decided that he had time before they left. They were mostly of Mimori, with the occasional family grouping thrown in for good measure.

They looked to be arranged chronologically. First, Mimori as a wide-eyed, chubby baby, sitting in her mother's lap in a formal portrait. Then a little grouping of informal snapshots – Mimori crawling in the entryway, Mimori beaming at the camera as she sat on the lawn with daffodils in her hands, Mimori and her mother walking across the lawn, Mrs. Kiryu holding Mimori's little hand – he could see how unsteady she was on her feet at such a young age, probably not even a year old, and infant Mimori looked mildly frustrated with her inability to do it perfectly.

Ryuho couldn't help but smile as he worked his way through the photographs – she looked so incredibly happy as a child. She'd told him once that she had been a little lonely with no real friends her age, but she always had her books and her mother and plenty of other people who loved her.

Here she was, probably right after she'd gone back to the Mainland, sitting out on the flagstone patio, books spread out everywhere, glasses shoved on her head. She was turning in her seat, looking over her shoulder and saying something to the photographer, the slightest smile on her lips. Her eyes, though, were wide and sad. Her gaze was piercing even in an image, and he had to look away. He moved on.

It was strange, looking at Mimori grow up in these photographs. They really had only known each other for a very short period of time as children, though Ryuho thought those had been some of the happiest months of his life. He could remember lying awake at night, wondering what she was doing, where she was, what she was thinking. And here, at least, was an explanation of sorts. Mimori and her dogs, Mimori in a formal gown, Mimori receiving her undergraduate degree, Mimori and her mother out gardening, both of them stunning beauties despite dirt smudged faces.

The last photograph was of Mimori in her graduation regalia, squinting a bit as she smiled into the camera, her parents flanking her and beaming proudly. She looked so hopeful, and she was radiant even in silly, archaic academic garb. How much things had changed in a year or two …. Ryuho had to wonder what would come next in this pictorial chronology, with a few feet of empty space before the wide doorway.

Ryuho wandered down to the entryway, which was empty, save for Mouko and Hisui who were sprawled out in front of the door on a Persian rug. He took a seat on a silk-covered banquette, and Hisui uncurled herself and came over to lean against him and put her head in his lap. They were such unusual looking dogs, with their long limbs and tiny waists and heads. It seemed fitting that Mimori would have such elegant canines. He was still surprised that it had never come up in conversation that she had two of them waiting for her on the Mainland.

"I'm sure Miss Mimori and Mrs. Kiryu will be down shortly, though I can't imagine what is taking them so long." Nobuo stood beside the stairs, looking up with a tinge of irritation on his face. "Miss Mimori, as I'm sure you've noticed, is not exactly the type of woman who concerns herself much with her toilette." Ryuho had to laugh at that statement, which was very, very true.

"Mr. Kiryu has already gone ahead, as they tend to do business over brandy and cigars beforehand." Ryuho nodded. Mimori's father had been achingly polite to him when they had met over the past few days – though that was rare, it seemed that he spent very little time at home, something Ryuho remembered from his own childhood – and always seemed to be on the verge of saying _something_ when Mrs. Kiryu would whisk him away for some reason or another.

Ryuho and Nobuo looked up as they heard Mimori's voice – "Mother, you cannot _possibly _be serious. I can't wear those!" – and then Mrs. Kiryu's voice, light with laughter. "Darling, of course I'm serious, and you can, in fact, wear them. They'll look stunning with your dress, I don't have anything that sets them off nearly so well." "Mama, I'm _serious_, I can't-" "You can and you will. You haven't been home in ages, why not make those society matrons drop their champagne glasses when you come sweeping in on the arm of a handsome man? _Honestly_. Have some sense of adventure – I see that look on your face, it doesn't have to involve submersing yourself in physical danger to be _adventurous_."

An exasperated sigh from Mimori, and then her voice a little quieter. "Are you sure?"

The two men looked up as Mrs. Kiryu came down the stairs in a champagne colored ball gown, shaking her head and smiling. Ryuho wondered how many years it had been since he'd heard that familiar _swish-swish-swish_ of taffeta, satin, and tulle. His mother had always come in to kiss him good night, even if she and his father got home very late from some formal event – Ryuho always lay awake at night when they were out, before he was old enough to be taken with them, and waited for that rustling and the soft click of her shoes to come down the hallway.

"Ryuho, you look simply marvelous! Are the boots all right? I was afraid they wouldn't come back in time."

"Yes, they're perfect, like a glove. I don't think I've ever had a pair of boots this impractical, though." Mrs. Kiryu laughed. "Impractical is what you make of it. I think you'll make the ladies swoon, so that's not terribly impractical in my book." She looked up at the stairs and called to Mimori – "Mimori, dear, really – we need to go, Nobuo is looking like he's ready to throttle the both of us for taking so long. We're already going to be fashionably late, best not to be _rude_."

Mimori appeared at the top of the stairs, looking very unsure of herself. Ryuho realized these were the moments that people meant when they pulled out that tired phrase, "_She took my breath away_." A sapphire blue bodice was embroidered on the top edge and down on the bottom, which came to a V, with gold and silver thread. The skirt wasn't full, and it lay close to her body from the front, but Ryuho could see the longer hem in the back pooling around her; the embroidery of the top was matched by a very wide band on the bottom, he would guess 8 inches at the very least. Leaves and birds and who knows what else were detailed with metallic thread. White kid gloves, which ended half-way up her upper arm; her hair was pulled up simply. And the necklace and bracelet!

Sapphires and diamonds – the necklace was graduated, the middle sapphire nearly the size of an egg, the emerald cut showing off the absolute beauty of the stone's color. It fit close to her neck, but jewels fanned out by virtue of their setting and heavy gold work. In a less sturdily wrought piece, the smaller round sapphires would each hang down, but that they simply laid on her skin as they had been placed, marching over her collarbones, each a little smaller than the last, ringed with diamonds. The bracelet was a wide, tightly fitting cuff of openwork, set with diamonds and sapphires and a few rubies – it sparkled and flashed in the light, and when she got closer, he could see that it was delicately formed birds on branches of flowers.

"Only my Mimori would argue over wearing the family jewels," Mrs. Kiryu whispered to Ryuho, but Ryuho could hear the pride in her voice. She was _always_ beautiful, but seeing her dressed so differently, hair in an elegant chignon, dressed in what must be hundreds of thousands of dollars in jewelry, he was practically breathless at how exquisite she looked … and then she slipped on the last stair, landing in an unceremonious heap of blue silk on floor.

Mimori put a gloved hand to her face and giggled, red-faced and embarrassed. "I guess it's a good thing I wasn't destined to be a society matron, I'd probably kill myself inadvertently. Let's hope I don't fall flat on my face when we enter." Nobuo helped her up and she smoothed out her skirt. Ryuho offered his arm to her, and she smiled up at him.

She scuffed the soles of her shoes up on the walk as they headed towards the car – "I forgot these shoes were new, and I'm serious when I say I'm afraid I'll fall flat on my face once we get there." She smiled up at him, looking flustered. "Do you like your boots? I was afraid they wouldn't be able to alter them in time."

"Your mother said the same thing, actually," he said as he opened the car door for her and she slid into the backseat. He reached down to tuck up her skirt in the car. "And yes, I do like them. Terribly impractical, but they're beautiful."

Mrs. Kiryu was airily talking in the backseat as Nobuo eased the car out of the drive and into traffic. Who was going to be there – everyone, it sounded like; apparently it had been thrown together at the last minute when it had been discovered that diplomats and other people would be in Kyoto to discuss the Lost Ground. Mimori gasped when Mrs. Kiryu was talking about the hosts. Ryuho turned to look at her, and she was staring open-mouthed at her mother, blood drained from her face.

"_How could you have forgotten to mention that little fact?_" Mimori hissed. Mrs. Kiryu looked coolly from Ryuho to Mimori. "Darling, it's really unimportant _where_ it is. I know what you're thinking, and you couldn't be further from the mark." Mimori glared ahead stonily. "Well, it would have been nice to know." "And then what, dear? You could've worried about it from the day you arrived?"

They pulled into a long drive, with cars lining it on both sides; they pulled up into the circle in front of the house, ostentatious fountain and all, and Ryuho was astonished by the architectural atrocity in front of him. "Nothing like a bit of conspicuous consumption to tell the world you're a proud, card-carrying member of the nouveaux riches, hmmm?" Mrs. Kiryu whispered to him, apparently seeing the horrified look on his face. A riot of columns, windows, and doors – all just a little too large, slightly out of proportion – made up the façade, and bits and pieces of the rest of the house jutted out oddly.

Ryuho pulled his gloves on, flexing his hands against the almost too-tight kidskin. Nobuo was already out, opening the car doors for Mimori and her mother. He noticed a few people who were trickling in turn and look as he got out of the car, but he stood waiting for Mimori, stiff as a board with his hands behind his back.

She'd composed herself, and was looking a little more comfortable. He once again offered his arm, and she put her little hand on his bicep, clutching him with alarming force. "You look fantastic, you know," she whispered up to him. "Nowhere near as good as you," he murmured back. Mrs. Kiryu fluttered around the car, asking if they were ready? Mimori nodded, and Ryuho contained a smile as he noticed how gingerly she ascended the marble steps to the front door.

They were shown in, Mrs. Kiryu gliding along ahead of them. Ryuho was trying very hard not to marvel at the sheer scale of the house – _everything_ was grandiose. The Kiryu household was beginning to look very tame and understated. "The ballroom is towards the back of the house, overlooking the gardens," Mrs. Kiryu explained as she led them down the long, wide hallway.

She stopped before they got to the huge double doors thrown wide, turning around and examining Mimori carefully from head to toe, adjusting her necklace slightly and putting a gloved hand up to stroke her cheek briefly. "My baby," she smiled, eyes a little watery. "Are you ready?" Mimori nodded, and Ryuho was just a little confused – _you'd think we were heading into battle_, he thought, _not a dance_. Mrs. Kiryu looked up to him. "She was never formally presented to society, you know. Tonight is a bit of a coming out for her. So be prepared to be the center of attention for a while."

Before Ryuho could say anything, they were being led into a cavernous room full of people, dazzling for its number of chandeliers and candles. He winced as the full force of the light reflecting off the wall of windows hit his eyes, and realized that they were standing at the top of a staircase. Mimori squeezed his arm, and they descended into the cacophony below.

----

Mimori had been terrified as they had descended the stairs, her mother beaming behind her and Ryuho. She was pretty sure that she'd left a bruise on Ryuho's arm from clutching it, but he had his icy mask on – _I never thought I'd be glad for the day when Ryuho was acting emotionless_ – and other than the briefest of smiles to reassure her, he hadn't said anything. She could swear that everyone in the room turned to look, though she knew that wasn't true; still, she hated feeling like she was on display. She could only be thankful that the habit of _announcing_ the entrance of people had apparently gone by the wayside tonight.

She had made a beeline for the gardens, glad that her mother was here and sweetly deflecting people temporarily until Mimori could compose herself. Ryuho's ruby eyes were flicking around curiously, though he was doing an excellent job of being a steely military man. She was so focused on not falling and not crying and not doing anything that would otherwise be unseemly that she barely registered Ryuho handing her a champagne flute.

She breathed a little more deeply as they stepped out onto the patio. "You looked like you could use a drink," he said to her, and she realized she was shaking a bit. Ryuho found an empty bench for her, and he stood by politely while she tried to compose herself. "So … why were you so upset on the way over?" he asked quietly – Mimori was pleased to note that no one she knew was out here, just some aides she recognized from the diplomatic negotiations.

"Oh. Well. This is the Ito house. I just would've liked to have known before we were, you know, on our way." She took a drink. "It's all right, I'm just nervous about running into old acquaintances as it is."

"I see," he said, apparently unconcerned, flagging one of the servers with a tray of champagne over and getting a flute for himself.

"Well, it'll be fine. I apologize in advance for having to drag you about while socializing, but Mama practically printed off a list of people I simply must talk to while here. I just needed to catch my breath." He smiled down at her, and she thought he really did look so incredibly handsome. The coat was cut nearly exactly as his HOLY uniform had been, but the plain black cloth with red trim fetching, and did set his eyes off. And the boots! She was so pleased with the boots, they were lovely. She supposed he did look a bit more militaristic than he should – his pants were black with very narrow red piping up the sides – but he seemed to be comfortable, and that was the important thing.

"_Mimori!_" The both looked towards the door as a squealing pack of taffeta, silk, and satin came pouring out onto the patio. "Your mother _said_ you'd be out here, what are you doing? Hiding? How _are_ you?" came a barrage of questions from the four girls. Mimori stood up.

"Oh, my – your mother let you wear the necklace? _My_ mother said I won't get my hands on her favorite until I cough up a grandchild or two." Mimori smiled wanly and took another sip of champagne. "Ooooh, you got to wear the _bracelet_, too." The girls turned their eyes away from the glitter on Mimori's wrist and looked up at Ryuho, who was still standing silenty behind Mimori.

"And _who_ is _this_?"

"Ryuho Tairen," Mimori turned to Ryuho, and introduced the four girls. "Ritsuko Takahasi, Saaya Kudo, Uzuki Sato, and Keiko Nakamura. We went to school together when we were little." She turned back to the girls, who giggled madly when Ryuho bowed politely.

They stood and asked what seemed to Mimori like a million questions, until Ryuho finally suggested they go dance (_bless his sense of timing!_). Mimori promised to come find the girls before she left for the evening, and again took up Ryuho's arm as they headed for the door. She heard the giggles and whispered comments behind them, though she couldn't pick out what they were saying.

The small orchestra was playing a waltz as they reached the dance floor. She curtsied, Ryuho bowed, and then they joined the swirling fray.

"I feel like I've stepped into a Tolstoy novel."

Mimori giggled at Ryuho's statement. "Well, they do like to keep things _old_. Really old. Don't ask me why, it's always been like that." A couple that had apparently already had a bit too much to drink narrowly missed taking Mimori out while they careened wildly across the dance floor and Ryuho glared at them, which made Mimori giggle a little more. She was already feeling more relaxed, especially in the relative anonymity of the crowd currently dancing. Well, not that Ryuho was easy to miss, green eyes, red hair, and all. Still, she had been pleased by the giggles of her old schoolmates. She was expecting startled gasps – she supposed that would be saved for the older generation – but they'd obviously thought he was handsome.

"You're looking a little less nervous," he smiled down at her. "I'm _feeling_ a little less nervous. I'm glad you're here with me."

The song ended, and she led Ryuho off the floor, snagging a few hors d'oeuvres and another glass of champagne - their mostly-full glasses had been whisked off from their perch on the window sill – and decided that they ought to go find her father to check in for the evening. He was usually delighted to show Mimori off, though she wasn't sure how he'd pleased to be showing Mimori off with Ryuho standing guard behind her. Well, it wasn't as if no one had heard of the Ryu family … she could hear her mother, _Darling, with these people, money doesn't just talk, it screams_.

"I think they'll be over that way," Mimori nodded towards a smaller room off to the left. Ryuho shrugged, apparently content to be led around. Of course, along the way, groups of people she hadn't seen since she had left the Mainland (and some she hadn't seen for years before that) stopped her; everyone was carefully and silently appraising Ryuho while fawning all over her. She was hoping the evening would get better as the alcohol began flowing more freely …

With relief, she stepped into the little room (_well, smaller than the ballroom, which wasn't saying much_), the scent of cigars and brandy filling her nostrils. Her father and other businessmen were sitting in overstuffed leather chairs, smoking cigars, talking business, partaking in expensive imported liquor. Mimori could remember the nights when she was very young - when her parents hosted things like this, Mimori was often allowed to toddle in to her father, who would usually lift her into his lap while he discussed business and politics.

"Mimori! I was wondering when you were going to come by. Here, here, sit down." Her father gestured to a leather bench that was currently unoccupied. She bowed politely in greeting to her father's associates, recognizing none of them but Haruhide Ito. Ryuho took up his position behind her after bowing as well, her father introducing him to the rest of the group, making sure to note that he was "the Ryu heir." All of them nodded, casting glances to one another.

"I see your mother goaded you into wearing that damned necklace, didn't she?"

Mimori felt the color rising in her cheeks, looking down at her champagne glass. "Well … yes." Her father gave a hearty laugh. "No need to be embarrassed, dear, your dress does set it off rather spectacularly. Ryuho, would you care for a glass of brandy? Top shelf. No, no, I insist."

Conversation went on around her as she discussed the events of the day with her father. He'd patted her knee affectionately a few times, and told her how glad he was that she was home for a while. After a few minutes, he knitted his brows together, looking across the space at Mr. Ito, who was looking up at Ryuho with interest as he stood quietly and stiffly behind Mimori, occasionally taking a swig of brandy. Mimori turned her head towards Mr. Ito, slowly sipping her champagne, wondering what her father was looking so concerned about.

"The Ryu family, hm? I did business with your father, oh, must have been ten, fifteen years ago. Lovely house your family has, if I remember correctly. And your mother," Mr. Ito swished the last of his brandy around the glass and downed it, reaching for the snifter to pour himself a little more, "Was a beautiful woman, rest her soul. Your father, now, he was a sharp businessman in those days – what is he up to now? Haven't heard much of him lately."

Mimori choked on her champagne, wondering just how much Mr. Ito had imbibed this evening. She put a hand up to her mouth, trying to contain the bubbly and her look of horror. The low conversation that had been swirling around the room stopped suddenly, all eyes going back and forth between Mr. Ito and Ryuho.

Ryuho responded coolly, "He's deceased, sir."

Mr. Ito reddened. "Oh – I see. I had no idea – when did -" "Nearly three months ago, sir." Ryuho's tone was exceedingly polite. Mimori really had no idea how he managed it, his ability to respond to anything – _well, besides Kazuma_ – with cool consideration had always been a mystery to her. If Mr. Ito's blunder hadn't been so horrifying, Mimori would have been tempted to laugh.

"Oh! There you two are. Mimori, dear, there are some people who would like to talk to you, why don't you get out of this stuffy little room?" Mimori turned, and her mother was hovering inside the door. Mimori thought her mother must have been born with some special sense, the ability to know when things were going badly and extricate people from awkward social situations. Mr. Ito took the opportunity to hastily excuse himself, and Mr. Kiryu insisted that Ryuho stay. Mimori shot him a panicked glance, but he shook his head slightly at her.

"_That was just in time_," she whispered to her mother when they were out of earshot. Mrs. Kiryu leaned in to Mimori – "Ito has never had the best sense of decorum when he's had a bit to drink, I was expecting that he'd make some foolish blunder, I just wasn't expecting it to be that."

Mimori let her mother lead her around for at least an hour. She was feeling better, more at ease with the old social grind of polite hellos and conversations. They ran into a few of the foreign diplomats, who were quite complimentary of Mimori – her mother smiled proudly on during those conversations. Finally, her mother suggested that she go outside and get some air. Mimori was grateful for the opportunity to get out of the ballroom, which was at this point in the evening teeming with people.

Mimori sat down on the bench Ryuho had found right after they first arrived, glad that people were spread out in the garden and there was no one here to talk to her. She was sitting, eyes closed, listening to the music inside when a voice interrupted her.

"Mimori Kiryu!" She looked up, and found Taro Ito standing over her, grinning. "How are you? It's good to see you again." It wasn't that the younger Ito was such a bad kid – he really wasn't, Mimori had to concede – he had just picked up a little too much of his parents' behavior when it came to conspicuous consumption and their stilted views on some matters. _God help that boy if his father ever goes bankrupt, I don't think he'd be able to function as a normal person_ Mimori's mother had once said.

He settled himself on the bench next to her, and they talked politely – he was in his second year of university, being groomed to take over his father's position as president of the Ito conglomerate some day, and was currently on break from university in Tokyo. Everything was fine until he asked about the Lost Ground – "I don't know how you do it Mimori, I really don't, I've heard the place is a virtual wasteland and some of those people are no better than animals" – and Mimori turned to him in surprise. "Well it's not as if they _want_ to live like that, you know," she said more than a little indignantly. Trying to keep her anger in check, she continued – "And what do you mean about _those_ people being no better than animals? Residents of the Lost Ground are just like people anywhere." She got up from the bench while Taro was mumbling apologies at her. "I apologize, Taro, but I really don't care to have a conversation like this tonight. It was good to see you."

"Mimori, I … I didn't mean to offend you, I apologize." "No, Taro, it's fine, but I just want to wander around your garden for a while, if that's OK." "Yes, yes, of course – I apologize again …" Mimori shook her head again, and turned to wander off down one of the little paths.

These gardens were much more compact than her mother's, and over the top just like the rest of the house. Bed upon bed was interspersed with fountains and benches and koi ponds. Mimori wound her way around, until she found herself near the edge of the garden by one of the high walls. She stood and considered the brickwork for a while, then turned to take in the wide expanse of the gardens – the finely dressed people milling about, the lights filtering out from the ballroom. She wandered for what seemed like an eternity, dragging her gloved hand along the wall, pausing to inspect a flower or shrub, meditating on her former life and what was to come. Or what she hoped would come. Daydreaming in the middle of the evening ...

"Mimori?" She turned towards Ryuho's voice, breaking into a smile. "I brought you more champagne, and I came to see if you wanted to dance. You've been out here for ages."

She took the champagne glass from him, tucking an arm through his. "I'd be delighted, Mr. Tairen. Shall we?" She leaned a little into Ryuho's warmth. "You cold?" he asked tenderly. "No … I just want to be close to you. Can we dance for a long while? I'm tired of talking to people." Ryuho laughed. "As long as you'd like, Miss Kiryu. I'm a little tired of being stared at on my own." She wanted to pull him down and kiss him right there in the middle of the garden, though she didn't dare. She just snuggled a little closer to the handsomest man at the party, for once looking forward to curious stares and admiring giggles.

---

The Kiryu family hadn't returned until after midnight, and though Nagiko Kiryu's husband was dozing in bed, she was not yet out of her ball gown. She couldn't sleep yet, a full night of socializing and carefully watching her daughter and her suitor weaving in and out of the crowds at the party had her mind buzzing.

She opened one of the French doors that led to the balcony, stepped out and leaned against the railing. Looking out onto the wide expanse of the lawn – there was a full moon and not a cloud in the sky – she saw Mimori, who was standing barefoot in the middle, watching Hisui and Mouko gallop around the backyard, bottle of champagne snuck from the kitchen in one hand, holding the trailing edge of her skirt up with the other. _My baby_. The dogs came galloping up to her, and Mimori set the champagne down on the edge of a flowerbed. She curtsied to the dogs who were watching her adoringly. And she began to dance, hitching her skirt up above her knees.

Nagiko could only smile, watching her beautiful woman-child. Mimori wove in and out of the beds, probably humming some song or another to herself, flitting this way and that and shimmering in the moonlight, dogs following gracefully behind her. She'd taken her gloves off, but the wide cuff was still on her wrist, and it glinted and sparkled as Mimori danced with some imaginary partner. Nagiko winced inwardly as Mimori tried to do a cartwheel and the heavy necklace whacked her in the chin – she tumbled over and put up a hand to rub her face.

It was good to have her home, even if only for a little bit. She was glad to see her acting so carefree – although she supposed it was due to the alcohol, mostly – but her lovely daughter surely deserved a night of respite from the grind of daily life, which had come far, far too soon for Mimori.

"What're you looking at, darling?" She leaned her head back through the doors, looking at her husband. "Mmm, Mimori's out back on the lawn, I'm just watching her. Seito, you have to give up on this Taro Ito idea." Her husband rolled over in bed and looked at her seriously. "Who says I haven't?"

"Who says you have? I know you, dear, I know how insistent you are, but I absolutely, positively will not go along with it." Seito gave a disgruntled sigh, looking up at the canopy of the bed. "If you say so darling. I think it would be a brilliant match."

"A brilliant match for business, and our daughter would be _miserable_. I also don't trust the older Ito further than I can throw him, and you have to admit that for all his money, the man is as uncouth as they come. _That's_ rubbed off on the son, poor thing. Besides," she said, looking out to the lawn again – Ryuho had appeared out of somewhere, Mimori hadn't even noticed him yet, wrapped up as she was in her wild dance, but he was watching her. "Who says there aren't other brilliant matches to be made?"

"Mmm. Let's talk about this at a later date, Nagiko. Come to bed."

"Go to sleep, Seito. I'll be to bed in a while."

She went back to the balcony. Mimori and Ryuho were circling each other now– a court dance of some sort it looked like, _where had Mimori learned that_? – and her daughter was laughing and smiling as the man with the most unusual eyes followed her careful steps exactly. No, whatever her husband said, Nagiko knew her daughter's heart lay elsewhere. Well, despite what had happened earlier, it was obvious that Ryuho had come around in a spectacular fashion. It wasn't just base infatuation, _that_ was blindingly apparent ….

She turned from the scene in front of her, going to her bureau and rummaging around in a drawer that held a lot of little treasures from Mimori's childhood – medals and certificates and snapshots, trinkets that had been gifts for Nagiko – digging through until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out a small framed photo, smiling as she looked down at it.

She got up, carefully shutting the bedroom door behind her as not to wake Seito, who was sleeping soundly and snoring a bit. Hammer and nails were somewhere … _ah, that's where Nobuo keeps them up here_. Nagiko rustled down to the guest wing, to the wall of family photos – well, Mimori photos, if one were being truly honest – finding the one spot where a snapshot was missing. No one else would realize it, of course, but Nagiko had carefully planned out the placement of each and every one, and this lone photo had been tucked in her bureau for years.

She carefully put the photograph in its intended spot. Standing back and admiring her handy work, she smiled – _yes_, she thought, _it finally belongs_. Mimori, aged 12, smiling broadly at the camera, running towards the photographer through Keika Tairen's beautiful formal gardens. Ryuho behind her, holding on to her little hand for dear life, watching her intently. Zetsui loping beside Ryuho, looking up at the two children, tongue lolling. Trouble was brewing, both on the Mainland and for the Lost Ground, but Nagiko felt a little better knowing her daughter would be watched over by her friends and … lover? _Well, they probably haven't gotten that far_, she thought with a smile. Both of them were so very grown up in so many ways, yet still children as far as some matters were concerned ….

_Oh, my darling. _Nagiko walked down to Mimori's baby pictures. She remembered how wonderful it had been when Mimori was that young and she was able to keep her safe in her arms. _ My baby. You'll understand someday soon._


	13. Nous sommes toute la vie Mon amour

Standard I-don't-own-Scryed disclaimer; more lemons! (I'm incorrigable, apparently)

_We are the whole of life/My love_

Ryhou looked on bemusedly as Mimori dug around her closet on her knees and muttered to herself. "I know there was a boot jack in here somewhere … Ah _ha_!" She held it above her head victoriously, turning around and smiling, tossing it to Ryuho and settling herself back on the floor. She was acting so happy tonight – "Champagne usually does this to her," her mother had whispered to him as they were leaving the Ito house – and she was looking lovelier than he had ever seen her. As soon as they'd gotten into the house, and she'd begged off to let the dogs out. Ryuho had gone looking for her when she hadn't returned after a few minutes, and had found her spinning wildly in the gardens, dancing with her dogs and some invisible partner. She was still flushed and giddy.

"Here, let me teach you a dance," she'd begged, and he'd watched her bare feet delicately going this way and that, trying to match them to the best of his ability. She'd been humming some sad old song to match her foot falls, but left off as soon as she'd looked up at him as they circled each other slowly.

"Mimori?" She looked up from the snack of crackers and cheese she'd pilfered from the kitchen before they'd come upstairs. "Don't tell Nobuo, he'll be grumpy with me," she'd whispered conspiratorily. She looked like a kid again, crumbs everywhere – she used to bring little picnics to his house, the sort of things children could get their hands on. Peanut butter, crackers, cheese. They'd felt very grown up, he recalled – sitting under a nice little fruit tree, playing at being the elegant adults their parents were grooming them to grow into. It was nice to see her so relaxed again. "Hmmm?" "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything." Well, he _thought_ that's what she'd said – in between mouthfuls of crackers and cheese, it was hard to tell.

"You never told me why you decided to come back. I thought you were going to sever ties with the Mainland altogether."

She sighed, and flopped back on the floor, splayed most unladylike, awash in blue silk. The necklace was glittering as it slowly crept up to her neck and the bracelet flashed in the moonlight. "Ryuho, I understand that you and practically everyone else who was born and raised in the Lost Ground wants to go it alone. I get it, I really do, I'm not being some dense girl from the Mainland." She sat up. Her voice was a mix of irritation and sadness. "But I realized after you and Kazuma nearly killed each other that we simply needed to have some sort of safety net in place, that this romantic idea of two great alter users and a ragtag army of native alters somehow fending off some sort of attempted military suppression by the Mainland – fending it off _indefinitely_, I might add – was ridiculous at best, absolutely fatal at worst. Thankfully, though my father has been astonishingly stupid for the past few years in his dealings with the Lost Ground, he was smart enough to call in favors from friends after ... the present situation appeared. I know it must have hurt his business dealings overseas after news of what was going on hit the international press, and my father is a businessman before all else. Hence, the international oversight."

She reached for her bottle of champagne and took another swig, then offered it to Ryuho. He reached out and accepted it. "In any case, _that's_ why I called my father. And I missed Mama, truthfully. I just … I know everyone thinks I'm an idiotic idealistic, and you know, I _am_, but this seemed far too serious to just – to just take a wait and see attitude." She looked down at her skirt. "I'm not sorry to give up my life here, Ryuho. I find things like this evening positively exhausting or stultifying … or both. I _would_ be sorry to see the Lost Ground bombed to bits and you and Kazuma and Scheris and Cougar and every _other_ alter user out there kill yourselves in vain. And it _would_ be in vain."

She held out her hand for the bottle. "I don't know what's going to happen, and I don't trust the Mainland one bit – this government is corrupt and there are warring factions – however, I do trust some of the _other_ parties involved. Is that explanation enough?" She turned her back to him to look out the open French doors and consider the moonlight that was flooding in. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her arms on them, drumming her fingers against the glass of the champagne bottle.

He got up, pulled his boots off with the now-found jack, and settled himself on the floor behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She made some little noise in her throat as she leaned back against him. "Kanami says that it won't be easy, but she knows it will be OK. I think so too." He didn't say anything and kissed the back of her neck instead, right where there were baby fine hairs.

"Do you want to hear something funny?" She whispered and turned her head to look at him; he rested his chin on her shoulder, nodding. "Well, it's not _funny_ as in a joke, but funny as in bizarre …. Mama confessed the first night we were here that our fathers thought of arranging a marriage between us when we were children." She looked out the window again. "Can you imagine? I nearly cried when she told me, just thinking about how awful it would've been when I arrived if there had been _marriage_ looming over our heads. How awful _you_ would've been."

She laughed and shook her head at the memory, took another swig of wine, and continued. "My father … is hard to gauge. Frequently. I usually can't tell you what his motivation for anything is, beyond business concerns. My mother is different, though … she told me she'd been staving off negotiations with the Ito family for years. She _wants_ me to be happy." She took in a deep breath as he nuzzled against her neck. "_Are_ you happy?" he queried. She straightened a little in his arms, turning her head so he could feel her breath across his lips. "I'm happy when I'm with you."

Her hands tightened on his forearms as he breathed across her ear, remembering her reaction the other night. He brought his hands up to work on the numerous hook and eye closures that had bound her all night. He managed to get the first four or five, and then Mimori scrambled up. She was fumbling with the lacing up the back, apparently trying to loosen it so she could get the front undone. She growled in frustration, her fingers not cooperating with the tight knots, and Ryuho got up to help her – he was amazed at the lengths to which women would go to look good, even women like Mimori who really didn't _need_ to be laced into some antiquated torture device to look ravishing.

A few minutes of fumbling, Mimori hissing at him that he was _doing it wrong_, Ryuho pointing out to her that it's not like _he_ had extensive experience with things that resembled bras from hell, and finally, Ryuho got both the knots to slip. Mimori took a deep breath, and leaned against the bed as her fingers worked their way down the front, undoing hook after hook; she pulled Ryuho down with her as she fell back onto the mattress. "Better?" he asked, looking at the slight red marks the boning had left on her pale skin. She nodded, wiggling around a bit and stretching. He pulled the bodice from under her back, surprised at its heft – it was deceptively delicate, flimsy fabric over steel, like most of the women in his life.

She worked on the buttons of his coat as he kissed her. "You look so good, I almost hate to take it off," she whispered, looking up at him through her thick black lashes. He smiled. "You don't have to," he whispered back to her, and she laughed lightly. "Of course I don't _have_ to. Maybe I _want_ to." He shrugged the coat off, and she wriggled out of her skirt.

He leaned on one elbow looking at her. She looked like a maharaja, clad in nothing but jewels and underwear. She looked up at him and wrinkled her nose – it was amazing how … _ebullient_ she was acting tonight – returning his gaze a bit shyly. "You look like an old painting, wearing nothing but jewelry," he teased, and she blushed furiously. She reached up to take the necklace off, but he stopped her. "Don't," Ryuho whispered as he wound his fingers with hers.

He didn't understand her, and wasn't sure he ever would – every time he thought he had her halfway figured out, some new side of her appeared. He could sense some harder edge that was emerging from beneath her soft exterior, and he wondered if it was circumstance or some part of herself she kept hidden deep inside. But he could drown himself in the essence of her, and happily would – thinking of nothing else but _Mimori_. Kazuma would fight to protect Kanami, and he would fight to protect Mimori, to make sure she could stargaze to her hearts content in peace, no matter what it took. To make sure that there were many, many more nights like this one for them.

He was feeling slow and langorous, and took his time heaping attention on every bit of her. Though she obviously enjoyed it, based on the occasional squeak or gasp that she tried unsuccessfully to smother, she was growing impatient with him. Oh, he _wanted_ her in the worst way, but it was thrilling to watch her face out of the corner of his eye as he kissed an ankle or fondled her thigh. He worked his way back up to her lips, carefully avoiding any of the spots he could tell she so desperately wanted him to zero in on, and she practically yowled in frustration. He gave in.

She pulled him close as he kissed her roughly, snaking another hand down to surreptitiously undo his belt and unbutton his pants. He worked his way back down her body with his lips, pausing to run a finger along the edge of the satin that marked the last bit of clothing on her. He looked up at her, and she held his gaze with a regal one of her own (_imperious wench!_), lifting her hips slightly. He pulled off the astonishingly small bit of black satin and threw one of her thighs over his shoulder; her scent hit him, and he was suddenly fighting to keep his desire in check.

He sighed, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do _next_, and she cried out slightly, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle it. He arched an eyebrow. Trial and error was hardly his favorite way of figuring things out, but apparently, in the realm of Mimori and sex and bed, it frequently lead to unexpectedly delightful results. He tentatively let his tongue slip briefly over her pale pink folds, keeping an eye on her reaction. She wriggled and slid her other thigh over his free shoulder, and he took this as an encouraging sign.

Ryuho knew he was blundering around, and the mere thought made him uncomfortable, but he also knew that Mimori was fumbling blindly beside him. He let her movements guide him, and lost himself in trying to learn the rhythm of her body. After a while, he became aware of little hands on his shoulders, trying to pull him up.

He settled above her, unsure of himself. "Was it that bad?" She looked a little dazed, and it took her a few moments to focus on him. "Wha – no – no, I just-" she paused as she tugged at his boxers, and he took the hint – "Um." She giggled nervously, then bit her lip, looking up at him wide-eyed. She rolled sideways to dig around the side table next to the bed, pulled out a foil square, and pressed it to his chest. He looked down at it.

"Are you sure?" Ryuho asked, hoping his voice didn't convey he was as uncertain as she looked. "I … think so? Are you?" He sighed, leaned in and kissed her. "I just don't want you to regret anything come morning. Or ten minutes after the fact." She smirked a little, rubbing her hand up against him – he gritted his teeth against the feelings she was coaxing out of him – and then looked up at him more seriously. "I've never regretted anything about you, and I'm not planning on starting now."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure." She sounded the tiniest bit grumpy. She continued, while he fumbled with the slick latex (_Christ, have I _ever_ fumbled this much in my entire life?_) – "I always thought this was just supposed to … _happen_. You know, roses and fireworks and-" she gasped and left her sentence off when he eased into her _ever_ so carefully. "_That_" came her whisper, and it seemed to Ryuho that she was very far away and impossibly close all at once, his mind trying to sort through the feelings and sensations and thoughts.

They started slow and he was afraid of being clumsy, of hurting her, but she nibbled on his lower lip, kissed his neck, tried to pull him a little closer, and her eyes told him that it was OK. He watched her, waiting for him to tell him how to move, what to do next, where to go, how to make her happy. She'd occasionally push on his hips with her little hands, or move this way or that – and apparently, if he actually managed to hit the right spot, she'd make those wonderful little noises in her throat and dig into his skin with her nails.

After she pulled the earlobe trick on him, he slammed into her hard, much harder than he'd ever intended, and she'd kissed him ferociously. He still couldn't believe how utterly incompetent he felt, especially after he'd misjudged his stroke, slid out, and banged right into her pubic bone. He bit down on her shoulder because _that_ hurt, and she sucked in a sharp breath between clenched teeth, it apparently not feeling much better for her, but she seized the opportunity to throw him over onto his back, shimmying up on top of him, settling him back inside of her.

Mimori apparently felt a little more comfortable than he did and she smiled down at him as she sat up. The moonlight was flooding over them, and she looked beautiful and ephemeral. She picked up one of her hands in his and brought it to her lips, kissing his palm and the thin skin of his wrist. She cast a sidelong glance at him, then settled forward so her lips were right above his.

"S'ok?" He wrapped his arms around that little waist, pulling her tightly to his chest and reached up to kiss her, hoping that would be answer enough. She shimmied her hips against him and he again gritted his teeth against the feelings. She couldn't possibly realize how close she was to pushing him over the edge.

He watched her through half open eyes as she moved above him, and he could feel her moving from one position to another, trying to find what felt best. He kept a hand on one of her hips, pushing her against him as they moved together. He still had no idea why she was here, why she wanted _him_. She rested her head in the crook of his neck as she moved slower and harder, and she twined her fingers with those on his free hand.

They were both taking in ragged breaths, and he hoped that she was near her finish because he was unsure how much longer he could take her onslaught. A cry caught in her throat and she pushed her whole body into his, driving – he could feel her pulsing around him, he couldn't think straight, thousands of little tremors, _le petit mort_, what an apt description – and he let himself go, wrapping his arms around her for fear that she would just leave him here. He let his body take in the full sensation of having her wrapped tightly in his arms, having her gasping unintelligible syllables next to his ear. Of finally having that of which he dreamed for _years_.

---

Mimori was frantically digging through her closet, throwing clothes haphazardly behind her. She'd really just wanted to spend the day dreamily lazing about, maybe doing a bit of shopping if she managed to drag herself out of the whirlpool of emotions that she'd woken up with. She was soaking in the bath, trying to work the soreness out of her lower body, mulling over the night before – _Not exactly how I'd pictured it, but lovely nonetheless_ – when she'd heard her mother's voice outside the door.

"Mimori, darling, I need to talk to you when you get out, I'll be on the patio." Her voice was fairly even, but Mimori caught the slightest hint of concern and seriousness. Mimori had hastily gotten out and dressed.

Mrs. Kiryu had been sitting, coffee in hand, watching the dogs romp around the lawn. "Mama?"

She turned towards Mimori and patted the seat next to her. Her voice was low and hushed as Mimori sat down slowly, taking up a cup of coffee that was neatly arranged on a tray in front of them.

"_You need to leave. Now. Today. Before your father gets home_."

Mimori looked at her in surprise. "But we're scheduled for tomorrow – what difference does it make?" "My darling, listen to me." Mrs. Kiryu leaned close, and Mimori wondered who her mother was trying to shield her words from.

"There are rumbles. I don't know what, your father won't tell me, but I – well, no, it doesn't matter what I think. I just have a feeling that if you don't leave _now_, you won't be _leaving_, because your father will lock you in your room to keep you here."

Mimori wasn't sure what to say, and Mrs. Kiryu wasn't letting her get a word in edgewise. "But Mama, I don't-" Mrs. Kiryu cut her off harshly, and Mimori was taken aback by the sharp tone. "It doesn't _matter_ if you don't understand. You take Hisui and Mouko, take whatever you think you could _possibly_ need, and go. I've already packed one bag for you, I've called the pilot and he's waiting, and Nobuo will take you two to the airport."

Mimori was staring at her mother, near tears. Her mother's stony gaze softened as she looked at her. "Mimori, _ma petite_, it's entirely possibly I'm jumping the gun. I don't think so, but it's possible. But if I'm right," she continued as she squeezed Mimori's hand in hers, "You'll understand soon. Now finish your coffee and go get ready. I'll go tell Ryuho."

Mimori sighed at the memory, sitting back up on her heels and putting a hand to her head, feeling a headache coming on. There had been a large suitcase and enough dog food to kill an ox in the entry as Mimori had headed to her room. _How do you pack up a life_? she thought, more than bit desperately. She had ransacked her dresser and desk, looking for all those little things she hadn't thought to bring before – all those tangible goods that made up her life _before_ and she wanted them for her life _after_, whatever "after" may be.

"You need help?" She blushed at the sound of Ryuho's voice, turning around and realizing that her room now looked like a bomb went off in it. "Yes. No … I don't know, I don't even know what I need." She put her head in her hands, trying to compose herself. "I'll be down in a minute, I just need to-" She looked up, and he was sitting on the floor, neatly folding her pile of clothes and putting them in the suitcase. "You don't have to do that."

"Of course I don't _have _to, maybe I _want _to," he said to her, little smile playing at the corner of his mouth, mimicking the same words she had said to him last night. She smiled down at her lap, and moved over to help him – packing the little breakable things in between the stacks of clothes – and they sat like that, folding, packing, not saying anything for ten minutes.

She took in a deep breath as she looked at the stuffed suitcase, and looked up at him. "Ready?" He helped her up, and then pulled her close, planting a little kiss on the top of her head as she pressed her face into his chest. She swallowed hard, then looked up to him again, trying to smile and failing miserably.

Her mother was in the entry, seated on the low banquette as she murmured soft words to Mouko and Hisui, who were both looking confused, tails wagging slowly and uncertainly. "Mama?" Her mother stood up, giving the dogs a pat on each little head, and sighed. "Are you ready?"

Mimori stood on the walk in front of the car, gripping the dogs' leashes, watching and unable to move as the car was packed up. Her mother was twisting her hands nervously as she hovered. She finally turned to Mimori and took both Mimori's hands in her own, and she noted with shock that her mother's hands were ice cold.

"My baby," she whispered, eyes a little watery. "It will be fine, darling, I'm sure of it, I just don't want you to be stuck here. Just in case."

She kissed Mimori's cheeks, the tip of her nose – and Mimori thought with a rising wave of sadness that it was just like she was little again – and she leaned in close and whispered a few lines of a poem that Mimori had always liked, it reminded her that life was, in fact, a glorious thing. Mimori could feel her heart breaking all over again – _how many times can a person stand to feel like this? If it's not one thing, it's another _….

They stood there looking at each other, Mimori not wanting to let go. Her mother gently took her hands away, leaned down and fondly stroked Hisui and Mouko. "Call when you get in."

Mimori let the dogs hop into the backseat ahead of her, keeping the door open as she settled herself. "Now, Mr. Tairen," her mother had turned to Ryuho and was speaking most seriously, "Take care of yourself. It was a delight to have you here, perhaps we can do it again sometime." She laughed lightly, and Mimori thought that it really wasn't funny, not with this dread building in her stomach. Ryuho bowed to her, and Mimori looked up as her mother leaned over her.

"I love you, my darling girl. Everything will be fine, even if I have to see to it myself." And then the door was shut, Mimori sitting there, hand up on the tinted glass like she was a little girl again, turning and watching as her mother – _no, more than that, my life_ – grew smaller and smaller and then faded out of view.

---

"Aren't dogs usually crated when they fly? Is it safe for them to be wandering around?" Ryuho asked Mimori in an attempt to get her to talk, as she was looking quite melancholy and plastered to the small window by her seat. She turned to him, blank expression, apparently registering that he was talking about the dogs. "Oh. Well, if it were a commercial flight, of course. But it's not, and they're not _wandering_, they're curled up sleeping." Ryuho sighed as she turned back to the window.

He was utterly confused. He'd dragged himself away from Mimori's side the night before, long after she'd fallen into an exhausted sleep, figuring that the last thing he needed was to be caught _in flagrante delicto_. He'd been unable to sleep for the most part, his mind worrying that he'd made a mistake, that she'd regret it in the morning, regret him – _but god, she was a glorious creature_ – regret attaching herself to someone who was so blindingly incompetent.

He'd gotten up after two hours of fitful waking rest and stalked around the public areas of the house after showering and getting dressed. Mrs. Kiryu had startled him while he was pacing around the library, gripping coffee in one hand.

"Ryuho," she'd said softly, and he turned, afraid of what was coming next. _Someone must have heard, and now I've … _defiled_ her only daughter and will be expected to _– "You and Mimori are leaving today. But I wanted to talk to you before you both go." She shut the door behind her. "Things are … about to get rough, I fear, both on the Lost Ground and here on the Mainland. There have been murmurs coming from certain quarters, apparently, and while I'm not privy to what is going on at this point, it sounds like …." She looked out the windows, pausing silently. "Well, don't concern yourself with that. I dearly hope I'm wrong, but I'm sending you two back just in case I'm not."

He'd watched silently as Mrs. Kiryu glided back and forth in front of a bookshelf, trailing a hand over the bindings. "I know it's only one day, but I believe Mimori's father will likely keep her here if she's still here when he gets home. And _I_ know that she doesn't belong here anymore, she belongs on the Lost Ground." She closed the space between them with a few steps and looked up at him seriously. Ryuho took a step backwards without thinking about it, unnerved by the intensity in her eyes. "I want you to promise me that you'll watch over her. Don't let her work herself to death, as I'm sure you know she's quite capable of. She'll need someone to lean on, though she'd probably rather die than admit it. God himself couldn't stop her from running blindly into harm's way, so I won't ask you to keep her from it," she continued, smiling a little fondly, a little sadly, "But try to follow after her when you can. She's a brilliant woman, strong and smart and driven, but she doesn't know her own limits sometimes. _Most_ of the time."

She patted his arm as he looked down at her, not entirely sure what to say. "Don't worry, I know that you will. And you have my thanks for that. You're the only one who has ever made her truly happy."

Mrs. Kiryu was gone before Ryuho could respond, and he had been left staring out the open door, mouth open. And now here they were, on their way back to the Lost Ground – well, they'd be there in half an hour – and Mimori was silent and tear-stained, staring out the window.

It wasn't until they'd touched down on the Lost Ground that she wiped her face and finally turned away from the window. "Some company I am, huh?" He could only look back at her, thinking of the handful of times he'd seen her this broken-hearted.

"Mama just upset me today. It seems very … final, for some reason. I don't know, it just makes me nervous." She looked down at her hands, and then yelped. "I forgot to call Tachibana!"

Ryuho smiled and shook his head – "I can't see it being a problem, though I think we may have a bit of a time trying to fit everything into his car. I'm sure they've been lollygagging around since you've been gone, with no one to crack the whip over them," he teased.

"Well, still, I hate putting people on the spot." She rummaged in her little bag until she found her phone. He sighed as he realized that she was occupied with her cell and collecting the dogs, leaving him to shoulder all the luggage – well, her luggage. Well, he supposed wrestling with cursed rolling suitcases was the least he could do.

"Tachibana? Hi! … No, no, everything is fine! We're home a little early, so I was wondering-" Ryuho swore as one of the bags tipped over, and Mimori turned around. "Ryuho, what are you – what was I thinking! Give me one of those. Tachibana, hold on one second," she said into the phone, and she looped the dogs' leashes around her belt. She mouthed a quick 'sorry' at Ryuho as she grabbed one of the larger suitcases and shouldered a smaller bag. "Tachibana? Sorry, Ryuho was stuck with the luggage."

The walked across the tarmac, and Ryuho watched the little rag tag family in front of him – Hisui and Mouko were glued to Mimori's side and each other, looking around nervously as Mimori chattered away to Tachibana. It amazed him how quickly she could put on a happy face.

"No, everything's fine … no, it's a long story … Yes, would you mind? Wonderful! We'll see you soon." She snapped her phone shut and turned around, stopping and waiting for him to catch up to her. She held a hand out and grabbed his free hand, so the dogs were sandwiched between them. Ryuho felt his heart beating a little faster.

"Sorry, I guess I just get stuck on auto-pilot, you know?" She seemed to be in a slightly better mood now that she was definitively back on terra firma. "Did you tell Tachibana that we're going to have to shoehorn all this and two _dogs_ into his car?" he inquired. "Erm, no." She looked down at the dogs. "It's easier to explain these two once he can see them. I mean, we've easily put three people in the backseat with room to spare, and he does have a trunk. And the beasties are amazingly good at making themselves small."

She took her hand away as they came through the little lobby and out the front doors. Mimori dropped her bags at her feet, and said she was going to let the dogs stretch their legs. Ryuho watched her carefully, thinking of her mother's words. _Try to follow her when you can_. He was hoping that whatever the reason Mrs. Kiryu had sent her home a day early, it wouldn't ruin the essential Mimori – the sweet, idealistic one. There were far too many bitter pessimists in their group, he thought, and it was nice to have someone around who was a little more positive.

Mimori shaded her eyes with her hand, looking up into the sky, and Ryuho looked up to see what had caught her interest. The little white jet had taken off again and was banking around to the right, moving away from them. She was chewing her lower lip again, and then Mouko butted against her, diverting her attention. She looked over at Ryuho and smiled at him, a real and genuine smile.

She was too busy sitting in the grass with the dogs to notice Tachibana pulled up. Ryuho shouldered the luggage again, and Tachibana got out to help. "Where in the world did you pick up _dogs_?"

Ryuho snorted. "At her parent's house, they're her pets." He caught the incredulous look on Tachibana's face as he glanced from the luggage to his car to the dogs to his car. "They do curl up awfully small. I'm sure all this shit will fit." "If you say so, Ryuho. I'm not so sure. And Cammy will kill me if there's dog hair all over the car."

Ryuho gave Tachibana what he hoped was a withering look. "I'm sure Mimori would be more than happy to vacuum it out. Besides, dog hair will be forgiven after she sees what Mimori got for her. Or got for you to give to Cammy." Tachibana's eyes brightened. "Really? Is it nice?" Ryuho sighed. "No, she picked out the ugliest thing she could find. _Of course_ it's nice, she spent an eternity going over piece after piece before she-"

"Tachibana!" Mimori had dragged the dogs back from the sunny patch of grass and was suddenly besides Ryuho. Hisui poked her head in between Ryuho and Mimori's legs and was looking up at Tachibana curiously. "Was Ryuho telling you about what we got Cammy? Well, we got two things, actually …."

Mimori continued to chat excitedly as they loaded the car, Ryuho and Tachibana grunting with the effort of shoving the heavier suitcase in the trunk. "What's _in_ here? It feels like lead, for crying out loud!" "Paint," Ryuho replied, "Among other things." Tachibana opened his mouth to say something, then apparently thought better of it. "It's for Scheris," Mimori piped up. Tachibana gave Ryuho a perplexed look, but Ryuho could merely shrug.

It wasn't a terribly long drive, and Tachibana asked lots of questions about how things went with all the diplomats. Mimori asked in a tired voice if they couldn't just do this over dinner, when everyone else was there? Tachibana apologized profusely, and Ryuho could only think about how nice it had been to have Mimori all to himself, with no one else to worry about.

"I think everyone's waiting for you guys to get back," Tachibana said as the pulled around the corner to the narrow side street where the apartment building was. Sure enough, Scheris and Kanami came bursting out of the front door as soon as Tachibana had parked the car. Mimori got out first, Hisui and Mouko sticking to her like glue, each shifting nervously from side to side, trying to stay as close to Mimori's legs as they could.

"Ryuho!" cried Scheris, scooting around the front of the car to beam down at Ryuho. "Mimori-san! Oooh! Who're they? Are they yours?" Kanami asked excitedly as she put her hand out for the dogs to sniff. The dogs wagged their tails vigorously, and Kanami giggled. "This is Mouko, and this is Hisui. I've had them since they were puppies, a friend of my family gave them to me when I was 15." "They're _beautiful_, Mimori-san. I've never seen dogs that look like this."

Mimori beamed down like a proud mother on her children. "They're greyhounds, but really, they're just excellent friends." Ryuho had to admit that both dogs seemed especially devoted to Mimori. When he'd found her dancing in the back yard, they'd been following her rapturously, never taking their eyes off of her. Then again, _he_ had a hard time taking his eyes off of her …

Scheris was leaning against the car, looking down at the two large dogs with suspicious eyes. "I don't know, I don't like dogs. Never have. Some of the strays around here are pretty nasty, are you sure these Mainland dogs won't get eaten? Why did you bring them back?" Mimori's smile faltered. "I … my mother wanted me to take them back with me. They're my dogs, after all. I couldn't bring them with me the first time – can you imagine dogs running around HOLD? – but I could this time."

Scheris quirked an eyebrow, then smiled at Ryuho. "Did you guys have a nice trip?" Ryuho nodded. "It was … nicer than I ever could've imagined, truthfully."

---

Everyone, save Cammy who was off having dinner with friends an apologetic Tachibana explained, showed up to Mimori's door that evening, bearing takeout and a lot of questions. Mimori was really too exhausted to deal with the barrage of questions that were launched at her, but she smiled and tried to explain as best she could.

"_International_ oversight?" Kazuma asked suspiciously. "Let me get this straight. Now the whole fucking _world_ is going to have their hands in the Lost Ground? Are you fucking kidding me? What happened to governing it ourselves?" Mimori tried to explain as best she could without irritating Kazuma further. "Kazuma, it has nothing to do with the government, it has everything to do with-"

"Well, in case it hasn't occurred to you, _Kazuma_, while it's a nice dream to act like we can do this on our own, it's entirely impractical and unrealistic," Ryuho said with more than a little irritation. Mimori looked nervously between the two.

"Whatever, pretty boy," Kazuma sneered, "Maybe _you're_ not good enough to handle the Mainland on your own, after all, if _I_ managed to whip your ass, then-" "Kaza-kun," Kanami said warningly, "Calm down. There isn't any point to fight each other."

Kazuma glared at Ryuho, who glared right back. Mimori was ready to crawl under the table. Cougar started to laugh – no, roar – and Hisui and Mouko really did climb under the table. "Ah, boys, boys. I think both of you idiots ought to listen to Miss Mimori. After all, she has more sense in her pinky than both of you have in your entire bodies _combined_. Besides, there are more pressing matters at hand, like what in the hell was in that god damned suitcase."

Mimori perked up. Something non-confrontational. She had picked out little presents for everyone, and figured that no one could _possibly_ argue over something as simple as _presents_. _Well, then again_ ….

She got up and unzipped the top, looking down a bit excitedly. Her mother had crammed it full of stuff, and Mimori smiled down at the contents. _Mama_. She started pulling out items. "Um, let's see. A couple of gallons of paint for you, Scheris, and a wallpaper border or something – I really don't know," Mimori said a bit apologetically, "Mama picked it all out, she's better at that sort of thing than I am. And a dress, I think the color will suit you brilliantly. Let's see … a bottle of good scotch and a new pair of glasses for you, Cougar …" She was pulling gifts and random clothing out left and right. Photo albums, extra dog collars … what _else_ had her mother managed to shove in here? "I got clothes for you and Kanami, Kazuma. I hope that's OK." Kazuma was looking at her bemusedly. "And ... hmm, I know the stuff I got for Cammy is in here somewhere, and yours, too, Tachibana …"

Mimori didn't see the jewelry box from the store down from her parents' house. There was another jewelry box, one that looked suspiciously familiar, but Mimori couldn't place it. _I should recognize this_, she thought as she pulled it out, _but I can't … _She held it in her hands, trying to recall where she had seen it before.

"Oh, this must be Cammy's present, yeah? Let's see … jeeze, this box is falling apart." Scheris took it out of Mimori's hands and flipped open the top. Scheris gasped. "Good god, is this _real_?" Mimori looked up as Scheris pulled the contents of the box out and dangled it in one hand, and she couldn't help but gasp.

The necklace. Mimori put her hand up to her mouth, starting to feel very, very sick. Her mother's voice came rushing back to her – _These will be yours someday, when you're grown and married and a mother like me_ she had explained once to Mimori when she had been very young and her mother had allowed her to put the jewelry on _just to see_ – but Mimori was none of those things. She looked back down to the suitcase and plucked another box of the same color, with the same name out and opened it, and there was the bracelet, glittering in the low light of the apartment.

_Why are they here on the Lost Ground … here with me_? Mimori couldn't shake the idea that her mother had known something that she hadn't told, that she had sent Mimori home for some incredibly serious reason. It had to be, to send her home with the Kiryu family jewels.

"Huh, wonder how much you could get for this?" Kazuma picked up the bracelet, turning it back and forth in the light, looking at the work. "Get your dirty hands off of that," Ryuho snarled, reaching for it. Kazuma jerked it out of reach, squinting his good eye menacingly at Ryuho, but Cougar took the opportunity to remove it from Kazuma's grasp.

"Miss Mimori, here is your bracelet," Cougar said and held it out for Mimori. "I – thank you, Cougar. It's not mine, though. They're my mother's. Well, my family's. No, my mother's family's. Something like that. But I'm not sure …" she said quietly, "why they're here with me." Everyone was looking strangely at her, and she just looked at the bracelet glittering in between her fingers. Diamond birds with ruby eyes, holding sapphire flowers.

Mimori felt the panic coming back, that knot of dread in her stomach. Something was afoot, just as her mother had said, something serious. Very serious and very unknown.


	14. Nous nous aimons et nous vivons

I don't own Scryed, I don't own Jacques Prévert, etc. etc.

A/N – thanks for all the sweet reviews. I don't delude myself into thinking I'm any sort of talented fiction author (I'm a historian, not a creative writing person!), and this is the first piece of fiction/fanfic I've ever written that wasn't assigned in some English class or another. But it's nice to hear that some people like it! This will be the last update for a while, as I'm still working out a lot of the events in the next couple of chapters and don't want to post them until I'm pleased with how things are progressing on the whole. But! This is my favorite chapter I've written thus far. The inspiration came from one of my very, very favorite poems called "Barbara" (sticking with the theme, it's by Jacques Prévert out of his _Paroles_) – it's about a town in France that was rather important in World War II & it's just one of the most incredible poems I've ever read, especially in the original French. I haven't included the whole text, but it figures heavily in what's coming up. So, yeah. Enjoy, I'll update fairly soon if my fingers cooperate with my mind & I can get the plotting further along going as I want it to.

_We love and we live_

It had been raining steadily all day, and Mimori looked out the window of the office building morosely. It had been three days since she and Ryuho had returned, and she couldn't help but feel a little bitter that their little sojourn had been cut short for no reason. It seemed like she'd done nothing but argue endlessly with Kazuma since they'd gotten back, Scheris, Cougar, and Ryuho piping up in her defense, Kanami stepping in when Kazuma got a little _too_ angry, which was far too frequently. _How sad is it that a nine year old is having to keep the peace_? she'd thought on more than one occasion. Kazuma was enraged that _international_ groups were being brought in, and Mimori tried desperately to explain that this was a _good_ thing, keeping the peace wasn't such an awful fate. Besides, she was just tired of going around in circles over and over.

She sighed as she put her chopsticks down, staring glumly at her rice. She really hadn't been hungry lately, and it was all she could to choke down plain rice at lunch. She knew Kazuma was upset partially because he hated not having control over his own destiny, partially because he felt like combat was his only purpose, and partially because … _well, because he's a hot head_, she mused. She looked around the table and listened half-heartedly to the banter that was going on around her.

Cammy was wearing the pretty gold and enamel bracelet – after the Kiryu jewel fiasco, Mimori had hastily dug out Cammy's present. Tachibana had been delighted, and Cammy had been even _more_ delighted when he gave it to her, throwing her arms around Tachibana's neck and kissing him. "It's _beautiful_," she'd cried, and Mimori had laughed as Asuka had turned beet red. "It's _perfect_." She was glad Cammy liked it. She had a feeling she'd like it even more after she got the matching necklace.

Her phone skittering across the table brought her mind back to the present. She picked it up, looking at the phone number, and realized that it was her mother. She excused herself from the table and walked out into the hallway.

"Mama?"

"Oh darling, I've finally gotten through – the phones have been spotty."

"Is something wrong? You sound really faint-" "Mimori, I called to say that everything is going to be ok. I've put calls in. Your _father_ has put calls in. You'll understand in a little while – but listen to me, are you listening?" Mimori was taken aback by her mother's voice, hushed and harried. Her mother never talked like that. "Yes, Mama, I'm listening."

"_Everything is going to be all right_. I – well, the reason I sent you back – no, never mind. Just _don't worry_, no matter what happens. I can't talk long." Mimori could hear loud voices in the background and the TV was blaring, though she couldn't discern what was being said.

"Mama, what's going on? Is everything OK? Why are you-"

"Listen to me carefully, and don't forget – are you listening? I'm serious, _ma petite_, when I say that I love you and you must _be careful_ and you _must not forget this_." Mimori had to look at her phone again to make sure that this was really her mother talking, this quiet voice that was so frantic, and when she brought the phone back to her ear, her mother was whispering – Mimori could barely make out her words. "… _Il pleuvait sans cesse sur Brest ce jour-là_." There was a click, and the line went dead.

Mimori stood in the middle of the hallway, fluorescent lighting buzzing above her head, holding the phone in her hand and staring at it dumbly. That line, she knew it …_ It rained ceaselessly in Brest that day_. Prévert. But what in the world had possessed her mother to quote _poetry_ at her? Mimori paced back and forth, willing the lines to come back. _Remember Barbara_ … _Rappelle-toi Barbara_ … rain. She looked up as she snapped her phone shut, barely realizing that everyone was staring at her, and she looked out the window at the driving rain … it had been raining in sheets all day. A steady rain. _That wise and happy rain_. Don't forget, her mother had said. _N'oublie pas_. Rain … _Cette pluie sage et heureuse. _

Realization hit Mimori like a ton of bricks. "Oh my god," she whispered, and bolted for the stairwell, trying not to slip when she hit the slick concrete of the stairs.

_Remember Barbara_

_It rained unendingly in Brest that day_

_And you walked smiling_

_Blossoming delighted dripping_

_Under the rain_

She threw open the door to the outside, slanting rain hitting her square in the face, and she didn't care one bit. Lines were screaming in her head – things must be bad if her mother had to talk in _poetry_ to her – and she stopped suddenly, looking about frantically, trying to remember how to get to the highest ground around here that didn't include the roof of a building. _Left, left_! something told her, and she struck off that way, pushing past the lunch time crowds. _Down two streets, then hang a left_. She was running as fast as her legs could manage, not caring about the cold rain that was falling in sheets - _il pluevait, il pleuvait_ her mother's voice was calling to her. People were staring at her as she darted in and out of the crowds of people, and she wanted to tell them to run, to go home, to go somewhere safe – but her lungs could do nothing but take in deep breaths, her mouth taking in rain with each step.

_Remember Barbara_

_Don't forget_

_That wise and happy rain_

_On your happy face_

_On that happy town_

_That rain upon the sea_

Mimori wasn't even running on panic, she realized, but some need, _something_ driving her – she wasn't sure what, her mother's words? Her mother's frantic whisper? And everything came flooding back – _It doesn't _matter _if you understand, take Hisui and Mouko_ … she'd sent her home with her beloved dogs, with the prized jewels of the family, told her to take anything she could _possibly _need. _My darling girl. My baby. Ma petite_. Higher, she needed to get higher, needed to see something, anything. _Pass the park, make a right_. Had she ever walked this far? She was sure she had driven it, but her body seemed to remember walking it ….

And the rain. _The rain_. It _was_ raining endlessly, and if Mimori wasn't running with a feeling of such purpose, she thought she could've stopped and doubled over in a laugh. _Prévert, delivering messages on the current state of affairs_. She must look ridiculous, running along the streets, stumbling occasionally as she tried to avoid pedestrians who were looking at her, calling out – _Hey lady, what's the rush? Watch out! _ – and she realized that she was probably soaking wet, having left her raincoat inside. In. With lunch and everyone else, had they even noticed she'd gone? _Of course, they'd been looking at me oddly_ … But how could they possibly understand, how could any of them, even Ryuho, understand? She bore right, and she knew that it was only a few more blocks – just a few more, then that odd promontory, so out of place, that looked out on the airport and the sea.

_Oh Barbara_

_What bullshit is war_

_What has become of you now_

_Under that rain of iron_

_Of fire of steel of blood_

_And he who held you in his arms_

_Lovingly_

_Is he dead and gone or still living_

Mimori couldn't remember the past few blocks – what had she run by? Why did the city end so suddenly, so alarmingly? But there she was on the highest point she could get to, panting with the effort of running for … for who knows how long – and there was nothing, as she looked around wide eyed. _Nothing_, why had she felt the need to get here? And then she heard a low hum behind her, familiar and strange all at once. _Sous cette pluie de fer De feu d'acier de sang_.

_Bombers_. Flying in a V formation, five of them, a little group. But they looked so old, so ancient. Mimori's mind was racing, trying to comprehend it all – her mother's call, her mother's insistence upon leaving early – _There are rumbles_. And now the ground was rumbling beneath her feet, slight vibrations. She looked down off the precipice – the airport, so rarely used since Kazuma and Ryuho had taken care of Mujo, but still the only connection with – with the Mainland. Mingling with the cold and wet rain, she thought, was an approaching_ rain of iron of fire of steel of blood_.

She looked behind her again, the V coming nearer now, the hum growing louder and louder. They obviously weren't trying to bomb the City proper – so why the antiquities flying over the Lost Ground then, these outdated weapons, heavy and perilously balanced in the sky? Why not something modern, something swift and unseen? Why this show of force, _antique_ force? She couldn't take her eyes off of them, they were steadily approaching, the hum growing into a roar and getting louder and louder. She put her hands over her ears, the sound absolutely unbearable, the ground shaking from the sound of their engines, and the rain continued to fall – _just like Mama had said _– that wise and happy rain, ignorant to the tools of war flying overhead.

They were close she could touch them, it seemed, just like the stars. She sank to her knees as she watched them dropping their cargo – bombs falling, antique bombs, long out of service, _What is this telling us_? her mind screamed at her. Heavy, falling diagonally with the rain. Over the airport. The only connection with the Mainland. _A warning of things to come_. She didn't even notice the mud as her voice caught – she wanted to scream – as she watched the bombs fall slowly, ever, _ever_ so slowly, dropping back to their target, and the clouds of fire and smoke and the _noise_. In a flash of fire, it was gone – the warning delivered – Mimori feeling like she was the only one there to see it.

She looked up to the clouds, which weren't moving off, which lay low and heavy over the Lost Ground, over the City, _their_ precious cargo of heavy rain still falling. And then she looked to the bombers, climbing higher now, banking right just as her father's plane had, returning to the Mainland.

_Dogs that disappear_

_Floating with the current over Brest_

_And go to rot far_

_Far very far from Brest_

_Of which nothing remains_

She felt like she was going to throw up, and she doubled over into the mud, the mud she was sinking into. _And what of the one who held you in his arms? … Nothing remains. Nothing remains. Il ne reste rien_.

---

Cougar had been hot on Mimori's trail on foot – he wasn't Radical Good Speed for nothing, using his alter or no. No one had been sure why she'd bolted out the door, and as he'd followed her frantic path through people, through streets, her blind path – he'd wondered, contemplated what was driving her. He'd heard the low hum – _military planes, old ones_ – and realized that her mother had said something to her, warned her somehow.

He feared that something would break inside Mimori, that the Mimori of old would be forever lost. The sweet girl, the idealistic girl, the one who would work tirelessly for anything she believed in – it would break with these bombs, with this formation flying overhead. She'd carried so much around the past few weeks, and he knew it as well as anyone else, if anything – he felt it even _more _keenly. Everyone could see that she and Ryuho were engaged in some complicated dance, a pattern of courtship – and _that_ part of Mimori was slipping away from Cougar, but at this point, he didn't care, he just wanted to protect her and keep her safe. From the rain, from the bombers, from everything that was yet to come … and oh, he knew that things were bound to fall to shit from here, any time things felt like they couldn't get worse, they would …

He followed her to the promontory above the airport, and she had been vomiting into the mud, smoke and fire spreading before her. She turned towards him as she heard his footsteps into the mud, and he saw the look on her face – out of control, complete and utter madness. No one could accuse Cougar of not having seen his share of terrible things, and he was pretty sure that what he saw in Mimori at the present moment was the most terrible of all.

And she lay back in the mud, in the middle of the driving rain, and started to laugh. Hysterical laughter, rising higher and higher, her chest rising and falling far, far too fast.

"It's raining, Cougar, it's raining, just like she said – _Il pleuvait. Il pleuvait. _Just like in Brest so very, very long ago." She sat up, still laughing, throwing her head back, practically covered in mud. It matted her hair and stained her clothes. "I was so stupid. So incredibly stupid. All of it! And I thought she'd sent me home … sent me home to save me from an arranged marriage, a life I didn't want – but Mama sent me back to this – to this rain, Oh god, Cougar, just like it rained before, _il pleuvait sans cesse sur Brest_. And I didn't understand, she whispered those lines to me, and I didn't understand. And now," she took in a few breaths, Cougar thought she was on the verge of hyperventilating, but he felt pinned in place, unable to go to her. "And _now_. Don't you see? Don't you see it, it's not a happy rain, Cougar, it's not wise, it's a rain of fire, of blood … of steel and it's _raining again_." She was growing more hysterical by the second, and he stood there, transfixed by Mimori _losing it_ so completely.

"_Il ne reste rien_," she whispered, her chest heaving – and then she was off again, laughing. He told her to get up, get out of the mud, but she was retching again, choking in the rain, not hearing him. So he went and dragged her up. Her knees were weak, and he had to hold her up, but she looked squarely at him – eyes glittering with madness, all of her drenched to the bone, her hair hanging limply around her pale face. She was babbling, and he couldn't even keep track of what she was saying – _Mama. Rain. Fire. Rain. Mainland. Idiocy. Mama._ He could feel her getting heavier by the second, her body trying desperately to sink back down to the ground.

He shook her. "Mimori … _Mimori_. For fuck's sake, snap _out of it_." She looked back up at him and laughed – her laughter honestly frightened him, perhaps had it been coming from anyone _but_ Mimori, he wouldn't have been worried, but here was the calm and sane one, the girl who was always on an even keel. _Always_. Ryuho had broken her heart multiple times and she hadn't broken. Life had come crashing down after she had been imprisoned by HOLD and she hadn't broken. And here she was, shattering to pieces in his arms.

"No, Cougar, you don't understand, _no one_ does. Don't you see? Don't you _see?_" Her voice was rising in pitch, becoming faster, more frantic. "_It's raining_. It's raining unendingly – _il pluet sans cesse_ – don't you get it? She called, called to tell me that, and who knows what's going on in that other part of the world, the _peaceful_ part, because she had to _whisper to me_." She was laughing harder, making absolutely no sense at this point. "And my dogs, she sent my dogs with me, she _knew_, they all knew and they didn't tell me, and I can't stop it – I can't stop any of it, maybe Kazuma is right. But Cougar, I couldn't stand to see you die, any of you – I couldn't stand by and watch it. I had to go and try, I just had to, I don't ever want to be without any of you. And what good has it done? _What good has it done_?" she demanded even as she laughed hysterically in his arms.

She took in shuddering breaths, Cougar still holding her up by her upper arms, and he followed her gaze as she looked at the clouds of smoke that were beginning to drift. "_It's a rain of terrible and desolate sorrow_," she whispered and looked up at him. And then she started to laugh again, but she was crying now, laughing and crying under this pouring rain – she was absolutely soaked to the bone, muddy and wet and upset – and she held his gaze as she whispered "_It rains unendingly in Brest as it's rained before_. But it's all ruined, Cougar, it's not the same, and everything is ruined.  _C'est une pluie de deuil terrible et désolée_." She whispered the lines in French to him, and she continued to laugh and cry. "_Rappelle-toi_ _quand meme jour-là. N'oublie pas. _Remember that day. Don't forget. _Don't forget, ma petite_. "

Cougar glanced over and realized that Scheris and Ryuho had followed him and were standing, watching Mimori in shock, Kanami and Kazuma were further down the hill, marching resolutely toward the muddy promontory.

"Ruined, it's all ruined, _tout est abimée_," she sobbed at him, crying more than she was laughing now, still hysterical. He could feel her heart racing, and he didn't know what else to do – he shook her, telling her to snap out of it, but she just shook her had and closed her eyes, continuing to cry and laugh. And so he slapped her. Not hard, but just hard enough to shock her eyes into opening.

"_Mimori_," he growled at her, "Knock it the fuck off." Her hands were clutched around that damned pendant, and she was looking up at him wide eyed, still taking in great shuddering breaths that were far too large and far too fast. "Do you hear me? Fucking slow down." _Can't say I ever thought I'd say _that_ to anyone_ …. She looked frozen in his arms, trying to lean away, but she was finally silent for the most part. Her eyes were astonishingly blank, and Cougar had a sinking feeling that she wasn't even seeing him, wasn't registering that it was him in front of her.

She fell forward onto his chest suddenly, letting go of her pendant and clutching great handfuls of his coat in her hands, sobbing again. "Cougar … Cougar, what are we going to do?" she cried, though he couldn't tell where he was wet from rain or wet from her tears. "_But it's not the same and everything is ruined_," she repeated to him, and cried harder, her face pressed into his chest.

"Now you're just being dramatic, darling Mimori," he said to her as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close – she was shivering a bit, though he doubt she realized it at this point. "It may not be the same, but certainly, only the _airport_ is ruined." And he coaxed a laugh out of her – a non-hysterical laugh, though she was still crying. Under the sky, under the rain – Cougar couldn't help but feel that this was _Ryuho's_ job to comfort Mimori, and he really wanted to turn to that idiot boy who was doing nothing but _standing there_ while this beautiful girl who loved him so much was sobbing hysterically – Cougar tried to bite back the anger rising in him, for fear of upsetting Mimori further - and snap at him to get over here and _do something_ about this. But anything he could do to calm this beautiful, wild girl down, to keep her from completely shattering – well, he'd do it.

---

After a shower and a change of clothes, Mimori had gone into high gear. Ryuho noted with more than a little concern that she wasn't even trying to act happy – that hard edge he'd sensed the night of the ball on the Mainland had come to the surface, and she was singly-mindedly focused on the task at hand, earlier hysteria forgotten, or at least bottled up again.

Her phone had been buzzing non-stop – actually, it was her phone that had snapped her back into reality, that and Cougar's warmth when she finally realized that someone was there, trying to shelter her from the rain and the sadness and the blaze that was going on where the airport had been. Mimori had looked up to him, looked at her friends that were standing in the rain, staring at her with shocked expressions, and looked down at the phone. She had composed herself instantly, answered the phone and started walking back towards the little office building as if nothing had happened, as if she wasn't drenched and tear-strained and red-eyed and muddy.

Scheris looked on as Mimori paced up and down the hallway, answering yet another call, the two greyhounds shadowing her nervously, never leaving her side. "Guess you guys didn't need to go to the Mainland after all, fat lot of good it did," she said to Ryuho. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "No, I wouldn't say that. Something else is going on, otherwise Mimori's mother wouldn't have called." Mimori stopped suddenly in front of the door to the makeshift conference room, snapping her phone shut.

"There are going to be a lot of people running around here in the next few days," she said, turning towards Scheris and Ryuho but looking out the window. "Apparently no one is sure what's going on, television channels and radio signals originating from the Mainland have been shut off, and the phones aren't working. They think it's some sort of coup, or that's anyone's best guess at this point."

"So who's going to be showing up then? If the Mainland is busy fighting itself, they can't come after us, can they?" Scheris asked.

Mimori sighed, put a hand to her head, trying to think of how to phrase this diplomatically. "No, Scheris, if only it were that easy. The government in place was fairly moderate – no, let me change that, the _temporary_ government in place was fairly moderate, there was a lot of upheaval after the whole Mujo incident. The hardliners have made a play for power, and part of their position is that the Lost Ground is part of the Mainland. And they _will_ take it back by any means necessary."

A derisive snort came from behind Mimori, and she turned around. "Mimori, come off of it. You can't possibly believe that having other people coming in here and solving our problems is going to fix anything? Aren't we just slaves to them instead of the Mainland?"

Mimori stepped closer to Kazuma, her cheeks beginning to flush in anger. "No, we are _not_ just slaves to them, and they are _not_ just coming in and _solving _our problems. I know _you_ have tunnel vision, but some of us realize that there is this whole huge world outside … outside the Lost Ground, outside of Japan. And some of us also realize," she spat "that relying on brute strength alone, some … some half-baked idea of this mythic fight of alter users versus the rest of the world, of people – _people_! Not immortals! – fending off massive military advances for the foreseeable future is _outrageous_."

Kazuma narrowed his good eye, looking down at Mimori. "Outrageous? Protecting people you love is outrageous? How can you-" "Kazuma, you know damn well I didn't say that, and you know that's not what I-" "And if _your way_ is working so well, why in the fuck is the goddamned airport on _fire_ currently – no, no, why is the rubble that _used_ be the airport on fire?" The two faced each other, both furious, neither saying anything.

Finally, Mimori sighed and leaned up against the wall, letting her head fall back and closing her eyes, her shoulders drooping "Kazuma, I don't know. There are things going on that I don't understand, no one understands right now. I _do_ know that the Lost Ground isn't as insular as everyone thinks it is, we still exist in an international framework. I have no intention of allowing _anyone_ besides the people of the Lost Ground to govern, and even if I did, it's not like any of you would allow it. But if it's possible to use global resources to our advantage, why shouldn't we?"

"Because …" Kazuma trailed off, looking down at his feet. "Dammit, Mimori," He flashed her a cocky smile. "Stop making so much fucking sense." Mimori tried to stifle a giggle. "I'm telling you, though, that if this shit continues, your diplomacy can go fuck itself. We'll be doing it _my_ way."

"Kaza-kun, everything will be fine Mimori-san's way," came Kanami's clear voice. Mouko unglued himself from Mimori's legs and wandered over to her - he had taken a definite liking to Kanami, and the younger girl was very fond of both greyhounds. "Really, Kaza-kun. I just know it."

Scheris came out into the hallway, keeping a good distance from Hisui. "Well, I think Kazuma has a point. Just because things work like that on the Mainland doesn't mean they'll work _here_."

"You know, Scheris, I realize that I'm not an _Inner_, but there's an outrageous amount of historical precedence for this type of thing, and I _don't_ mean just in Japan. I mean, look at Taiwan and-" her phone started to buzz again. Another number she didn't recognize. She smiled up at everyone. "How pathetic is this, the Lost Ground's line for diplomacy is my _cell phone_." She flipped the phone open, beginning to pace again.

"Hello, Mimori Kiryu speaking."

---

They'd made love for half the night. Mimori had dragged him into her apartment after dinner, and though he'd been taken aback at her aggressiveness initially, he'd fed off of it. Her desire was electric, she'd obviously been wound tightly all day and it all came pouring out and he could do nothing _but_ react to it.

"I just … want to be able to sleep tonight, I don't want to feel _anything_," she'd whispered through clenched teeth as he'd pushed her up on a fairly sturdy looking side table and she frantically undone his belt and the zipper to his pants.

It was wild, verging on violent at times. He'd had to slap a hand over her mouth at one point, afraid that she would bring the whole building running, and she'd bit into the heel of his palm with incredible ferocity. He was too busy trying to keep up with her to worry about their absolute inexperience, though he was certainly alarmed by some of her reactions, and he was astonished at her single-mindedness tonight. She absolutely refused to think of anything but him, even as they lay by the glass doors leading to her balcony, panting, trying to catch their breath before their efforts redoubled. He'd seen the blinking lights high above and pointed out the planes, wondering out loud who could be arriving this soon?

She'd been lying with her back to him, and she sat up suddenly – her eyes were glittering, wild with a strange light, and she'd said again that she didn't want to feel _anything_, she didn't want to think about _anything_ but him. And she'd fallen to kissing him again in an attempt to silence him. It worked.

Mimori had finally exhausted herself – well, him too, if he was to be brutally honest – and they both reeked of sex and latex, as did the whole apartment. He threw open the sliding glass doors, all the windows, and he'd run her a bath, looking at all the various bottles neatly lined up beside the tub, all the silly, fluffy names for the various concoctions. Satsuma sounded least offensive, and he'd squeezed some gel into the tub, realizing too late that he'd put far, far too much in. She crawled into the bath, laughing at the mounds of bubbles and held out a hand for him to join her. It was cramped and quite slippery, but her heart had finally slowed down and for the first time since they'd arrived back from the Mainland, she seemed totally relaxed.

He looked down at her as she sat in his lap now, legs wrapped around his waist and a bath sheet draped around her shoulders. He leaned back against the wall of the bathroom so he could see her better, but she just snuggled closer to him. "Mimori?"

"Mmm?" She had been humming something under her breath and stopped now, but she didn't look up at him.

"What _did_ your mother say to you today?" A sigh. "_It rained ceaselessly in Brest that day_." He looked down curiously – she'd been babbling about rain and Brest when he and Scheris had reached her and Cougar, Mimori laughing hysterically and sobbing. Scheris had turned to him and asked him what in the hell was wrong with her – he'd been shocked, too, he'd never, ever seen Mimori like that. He very much doubted _anyone_ had.

Another sigh from Mimori, and she looked up at him, eyes half-open. She looked like she was fighting back sleep. "She told me that everything would be OK, that she had put calls in and my father had put calls in and that she loved me." Her voice sounded half dead. "And then she told me not to forget _il pluvait sans cesse sur Brest ce jour-là._" He knitted his brows together.

Mimori nuzzled back into his shoulder, continuing. "It's a poem, Ryuho. An old poem about an old war. About a city. That's why I knew something was happening on the Mainland, why would anyone quote old poetry to you in warning unless they felt they couldn't talk freely? I heard people in the background. I don't know where she was. I just knew she was trying to tell me something was coming here. But I don't want to think about it …." she trailed off. Ryuho stroked her hair and she continued, mumbling. "And then it all started to make sense, the dogs, the jewelry. Sending me home a day early. They knew something was going to happen, Father must have heard the rumblings of discontent."

She staggered up to her feet. "I just want to go to bed. I don't want to think about it. I'm tired. I don't care right now. I just …." He got up and gathered her up in his arms and took her to her bed. She was dead weight in his arms. The dogs were curled up into one ball on the bed, heads resting on each other's sides – a canine yin and yang. It sounded like the rain was finally letting up.

"Stay?" she asked hopefully if sleepily, and he crawled in behind her, pulling the covers up around them. He watched her until he was sure she was asleep. _Follow behind her when you can_. He let his exhaustion take over and curled around her more tightly, listening to the sound of planes overhead and Mimori's breathing as he drifted off to sleep.


	15. Nous vivons et nous nous aimons

And chapter 15 finally appears! I've not given up on _La Petite_, but I've had a myriad of other projects diverting my attention away from it. Updates will come – but probably slowly (though hopefully no gaps as long as between chapter 14 and 15!).

Insert standard disclaimer here. Don't own it, don't claim to!

_We live and we love_

Mimori woke up to unusual amounts of noise in the street below. Sunlight was flooding in through the open window, and she already felt better. _ Normal_ - if extraordinarily sore. She winced a little as she rolled over on her back and stretched, accidentally smashing Ryuho in the face with an open palm. He woke up with a start, shaking his head and looking at her with bleary eyes. He blinked at her through green bangs, and she had to smile – he looked so young for once.

"Feeling better today?" he asked, except his voice was still heavy with sleep and it came out more like _feengbederday_? She laughed, waking the dogs up, and they both gave her an irritated and imperious look as they picked their heads up in surprise. Ryuho rolled over on his back and rubbed his eyes, looking at Mimori as she sat up and winced again.

"Much. Ready for whatever comes next, I suppose, though I think I'll be hobbling around for the rest of the day."

Her phone began to buzz, and she answered it – another unfamiliar number. People were arriving from all over and they were appropriating the old HOLD headquarters, was that OK? Mimori said that yes, of course, that was fine and that she'd be down shortly, after walking the dogs.

She took a few more phone calls – _we really need to get something other than a damn cell phone to deal with this stuff_ – as she got up, got dressed, and made coffee, and she was glad her morning routine had been the same for years and she didn't have to stop and think. She handed Ryuho a cup of coffee without even thinking about it as she leaned against the kitchen counter, nodding along to the sound of the young aide's nervous voice. Sanctions had already been put in place, emergency Security Council meetings, ready to launch an extensive plan of defense if need be – international community in an uproar, '_yes, yes, we know all this, five people have called to say the same thing' _she wanted to say. She simply repeated that she needed to walk her dogs and then she'd be down, along with everyone else.

"Did you see all this stuff going on outside?" Mimori looked up at Ryuho, who was leaning over the balcony railing. "No, it sounded like there was something when I woke up, what is it?"

"Television crews, it looks like."

Mimori groaned and downed the rest of her coffee. _Leave it to CNN and the international news outlets to show up before the foreign government entourages get here to _fix _things_. "I'm going to go walk the dogs, and then we need to get down to HOLD. I would assume everyone else is already up, what with this rabble outside?"

She and Ryuho slipped out a side door with the dogs, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. It occurred to Mimori that it was hard to blend in with two dogs and a green-haired, red-eyed man. "_Just don't make eye contact_," she whispered as they ambled by a group of cameramen and a reporter who had apparently decided that the middle of the street was an excellent place to discuss strategy and lighting.

"What are we dealing with, rabid animals? _Don't make eye contact_? Like that's going to stop them," Ryuho snorted.

"No, rabid media, there's a difference. At least you can shoot a rabid dog," Mimori whispered under her breath. "Kazuma is going to blow a fuse if someone sticks a boom in his face, I can just see it."

Mimori apologetically explained to the dogs that they had to cut their morning walk short today. They'd seemed reluctant to go back inside, but Mimori wasn't quite ready to face a barrage of questions and cameras. One eagle eyed reporter spotted them as they'd returned to the building via the little, dirty ally in the back, but Ryuho shoved her inside and closed the door before the woman managed to get to them.

Kazuma came blustering down the stairs, bellowing. "What in the fuck is going on? Who are all these people, and why in the fuck are they hanging around in the middle of the goddamned street like a bunch of idiots?"

"Well, good morning to you, too, Mr. Sunshine," Ryuho said dryly.

"Fuck off, Pretty Boy-"

"Ok, you two, not this morning, please?"

"Hey! Mimori, you're looking much better today. Feeling better?" Kazuma leaned up against the stairwell, smiling a bit sheepishly at her. Mimori gave him what she hoped was a serene smile.

"Much better, thanks. Sorry about yesterday. I need to drop the dogs off and then we need to go to the old HOLD headquarters-"

"HOLD? Are you fucking serious? What in the-"

Mimori breezed right along, ignoring Kazuma, "So if you two wouldn't mind collecting the others so we can leave as soon as possible, that would be wonderful." Kazuma grunted, looking quite out of sorts.

Hisui and Mouko had given her baleful looks when she'd taken them back to the apartment. "I know, we'll go out for a longer walk this afternoon, I promise," she'd said as she'd walked out.

"Ah, Miss Mimori! You're looking much better this morning. Feeling better, I trust?"

Mimori felt the flush on her cheeks. "Much better. Thank you – for everything." She looked up at Cougar and swore she saw the briefest flash of serious concern. Just as quickly, he was grinning down at her.

"Say nothing of it, my dear – and now, I do think it's time for us to hurry ourselves down to HOLD! After all, Miss Mimori, _oneneverDOESknowwhat'sgoingtobeNEXT!_" Mimori started to ask how he knew that they needed to go … but he was off and down the stairs in a flash.

She shook her head, trying to figure out _how_ she was going to explain this bizarre little band of people ….

----

Everyone was disconcerted by being back at the old HOLD headquarters, especially since they found the building in near-pristine condition. "I would have thought that the place would've been ransacked," Mimori commented with more than a little wonder as the walked into the lobby, people buzzing around, phones ringing, reporters milling.

"Huh, yeah, and I couldn't have blamed them," Scheris said as she stood, hands on hips, appraising the scene in front of her. "A bit like old times, isn't it?"

Kazuma growled. "I sure as shit hope not, otherwise _I'll_ bring down this whole building myself." Mimori wished Kanami was here to tell her 'Kaza-kun' to calm down, but she'd stayed back with Cammy and the dogs, with explicit instructions not to go outside – while Mimori had no doubt that Kanami would be wonderful press, she could envision Kazuma going ballistic, and god help the fate of the Lost Ground if a BBC reporter was maimed or worse by a raging native alter ….

Ryuho was blank faced, watching the goings on silently: Cougar had run off somewhere, Mimori was talking to Tachibana and Scheris, and Kazuma was looking around warily. A young woman, not much older than Mimori by the looks of her, nervously approached him.

"Excuse me, sir, but is Miss Kiryu with you?"

"Yes, she's-"

Kazuma interrupted him, leaning in close and snarling "What's it to you?"

The woman gave an involuntary shriek, quickly covering her mouth apologetically. "I'm … I'm sorry, I'm Peng Zhuidao from the Chinese delegation. I've been instructed to bring Miss Kiryu in for a briefing, and …"

"Anywhere she goes, we go." Miss Peng's eyes widened, taking in Kazuma. Ryuho wished he could just grab him by the scruff of the neck and tell him that terrifying aides was generally not considered good diplomatic form.

"Yes, yes, of course, I'm sure that won't be a problem. Follow me this way …"

"Kazuma, you idiot, stop being such an uncouth lout," came Cougar's voice. "God knows these people aren't paid enough to deal with the likes of _you _when you're having a fit."

Kazuma reddened, and it looked like he was about to explode. Mimori hastily grabbed him by his elbow, dragging him with her. "_Kazuma,_" she whispered, "I can appreciate your … _concern_ over what's going on right now, but please, please, _please_ just go with it and don't get angry." He grimaced. "Just think of what Kanami would say right now," Mimori hissed. The last thing they needed was Kazuma throwing a fit in front of a bunch of important people.

"Let's see, the conference room is … well, I guess you all know where it is." Miss Peng gave a nervous laugh. Her hands were fluttering nervously by her side as she click-click-clicked with her sensible black leather pumps in front of them. _So many memories_ … Mimori couldn't help but think as they walked down the wide halls. She looked to at Ryuho, who was staring ahead, expressionless.

"Ah, here we are!" Miss Peng chirped. It was a big conference room – only Cougar seemed to recognize it – with a large round table and a few people milling around by the windows. Miss Peng looked relieved to have delivered her charges safely, and excused herself quickly. Mimori recognized one of the young men that had been attached to the British diplomat she had met back on the Mainland. He recognized her, too, and bowed politely.

"I hadn't any idea that the diplomatic corps would be making an appearance this soon," she said to him.

"Oh, Miss Kiryu, they're not. Well, not in force _yet_, give it a few days. We were having a bit of a vacation in Hong Kong and then this happened." The man waved his hand towards the windows. "So we got a call to get on a plane over here. Don't ask me why, bureaucracy works in mysterious ways. Well, there's not exactly a safe embassy for us to go back to on the Mainland, I suppose …. I do rather look forward to seeing these supposedly incomparable night skies." He smiled at her.

"Ah, you must be Miss Kiryu." Mimori turned, and came face to face with a man – not young, not old – in a nicely tailored suit. "I'm Ma Zhebiao, pleased to meet you." They exchanged polite bows. Mimori once again introduced everyone (_where in the hell has Cougar gotten off to _again), more polite bows - though Kazuma was leaning up near the door, narrowing his good eye at Ma, who simply regarded him coolly.

"I'm afraid that we don't have much information at the present, and as I'm sure you noticed, things are a bit hectic and disorganized around here. Please, do sit down." The ex-HOLY members were once again sitting formally, as was Mimori – all this felt like old hat for each of them. Kazuma slouched in a chair between Scheris and Mimori, and Scheris was wondering why he had bothered coming at all. Actually, why Mimori had bothered to bring him along in the first place. _For all his blustering,_ she thought, _he sure can act like a petulant child_.

Mimori's mind reeled as she tried to take in the onslaught of information Ma was throwing at them – _there have been some disturbances … new government … hardliners making a play for power … military coup … civil war_. He'd been giving background for ten, fifteen minutes, and Mimori frantically tried to scratch a timeline together in her little notebook. So many little things they hadn't noticed, or even known of – though how could they? She guiltily admitted to herself that she'd been a little too wrapped up in the turn her personal life had taken … _that_ had seemed like the most important thing lately, until -

"It would also seem that the last straw were the negotiations that took place this weekend; the hardliners who have been building part of their platform on taking back the Lost Ground by any means necessary decided to move."

"Right, this history lesson is great, but what's your point?" Scheris kicked Kazuma under the table. "Hey, Scheris, what in the hell was that fo-"

"_As I was saying_," Ma continued, "Information is limited. So, here's what we do know – this is all cobbled together from eye-witness reports, intelligence, and what we managed to pick up before the television and radio channels went dead yesterday. On Tuesday, an emergency session of Parliament was called. The Constitution was suspended the same day, and martial law was declared." Mimori blanched.

"There were riots in Tokyo and several other large cities, but it would appear that the military is mostly under the control of the hardliners, so not much was done to curb the crowds. There have been economic tensions broiling in Japan for months, and the press was manipulated enough to set off these tensions. Like putting fire to gunpowder …" Ma flipped open a laptop, turning it around so everyone could clearly see the video of the looting, burning, and general madness going on through the streets of Tokyo.

Ryuho watched Mimori frantically scribbling, wondering how it was that she was so good at writing without even having to look at the page. Ma was checking off a consolidated timeline – the prime minister forced to resign, Parliament appointing a new one …. Mimori quirked an eyebrow when the man's name was mentioned, one Taiju Matsuo. Ryuho wondered if she knew him. It seemed like the Kiryu family knew _everyone_ who was anyone.

Ma clicked to another clip and Ryuho shot a glance over to Mimori. It was that god-awful Ito mansion, just as ugly as Ryuho remembered, but this time, there were military vehicles in front of it. The camera zoomed in on Mr. Ito and a man dressed in a drab green military uniform – dress, naturally – highly decorated with medals and ribbons. He assumed it was Taiju Matsuo.

Mimori narrowed her eyes. She could hear her mother's voice – _That man would do anything if he thought it would bring him a few extra pennies, to say nothing of billions. Now darling, you know I'm not saying your father has always been the most scrupulous man in his business dealings, but I'd kill him before I allowed him to do some of the low-down things …._

"That _idiot_. I wonder if _that_ has anything to do with Saturday ..." Mimori spat. She was seething. Scheris looked up. "Saturday?"

"Ah yes, the ball, ostensibly to host visiting dignitaries. Well. If you don't mind me asking, Miss Kiryu, what do you think?" Mr. Ma asked.

"My personal opinion on Mr. Ito is of no concern, Mr. Ma. I certainly have not been around him in any meaningful way in years. He has always been a business associate of my father, nothing more, nothing less." Her voice was cool and collected. "However, people have referenced a number of things he has done over the years that were … _less_ than scrupulous, even in the realm of business. If he thinks he can make a _penny_ on it, he'll generally put aside any qualms he has, or common sense for that matter."

"Mmm, I see."

"What of the situation on the Mainland?"

"As I said in the beginning, Miss Kiryu, we're running on very little concrete information at this point. However, there are forces still active on the Mainland that should be able to effectively combat this hostile takeover. How long that will take, though, is anyone's guess. I'm sorry to say that we have no word on your parents, though a number of prominent families have been rounded up, and -"

"So how do we know you people aren't just in here to take over the Lost Ground?" Kazuma was leaning back in his chair, glancing around at the various people hovering around the room.

"Well, Mr. …"

"Kazuma. Just Kazuma."

"Well then, _Kazuma_, as you've probably noted, this is hardly a unilateral action by one country. No one country has enough to power in this situation to claim this area as their own, and we are, after all, here under the auspices of the United Nations. You might not be aware that Japan has … not always been looked on favorably by the international community in recent years, and their management of the Muraji Special Economic District was truly the last straw in the eyes of many-"

"Yeah, yeah – and where have all these people been for the past 22 years?"

"Well, the nature and extent of what was going on here was not known until a few months ago."

Kazuma curled his lip. "Or you didn't care to know. I swear to God, Mimori, all of these people can just-"

"_Kaza-kun_." Mimori was looking at him with extremely composed fury written on her face. "We can talk about this later. Now is not the appropriate time." Scheris nearly giggled, thinking Mimori sounded like an irritated mother talking to a small child. She was waiting for her to grab Kazuma by the wrist and drag him out of here while he squalled.

Mimori's use of Kanami's nickname made Kazuma shut his mouth, though not without a few dagger glances thrown around the room for good measure. Mr. Ma was doing an excellent job of looking impassive, Mimori thought – she was trying her hardest to not snap at Kazuma to just shut up for once and stop being a damn hot head.

"Of course they wouldn't be interested in seizing the Lost Ground, Kazuma," Ryuho said coolly. "Too little financial gain for far too much financial and military risk." Kazuma puffed up, and Mimori clenched a hand on his forearm, giving him a warning look.

"Well, that's one way of looking at it, I suppose …." Ma trailed off, watching Kazuma carefully.

"Well, this has been quite instructive," Mimori hastily said, thinking it would be best to get Kazuma _out of here_ before he single-handedly caused an international incident.

"Yes, indeed. However, I'm afraid that _timeiswasting_, Miss Mimori, and it would probably be prudent to go have a nice chat with the residents before _we _have rioting on our hands." Cougar had reappeared from wherever he'd gone off to, and Mimori looked at him with relief flooding her face.

"Yes, of course. I suppose we shall be getting to know each other quite well over the next few days, and there is time enough to talk about anything that may come up," Ma got up from the table and bowed politely.

_It's like herding cats,_ Ryuho thought as Mimori dragged Kazuma out the door, all the while bowing politely to aide after aide as she whispered heatedly under her breath at the recalcitrant native alter. Scheris came up beside him, standing on her tip-toes and whispering "Some crack team we have assembled here, huh?"

She giggled and Ryuho could only sigh and roll his eyes. Some crack team was right.

---

Mimori ran her hand through her hair as she looked down at the sheaves of paper that were thrown all over her table. Transcripts of phone conversations, intelligence reports, television and radio logs, graphs, diagrams … if _someone_ had thought it important, it was there. "I thought _medical_ journals could be dull," she said to Hisui, who was curled into a ball beside her chair. The dogs had been nervous since they'd arrived at the Lost Ground, and now they were especially loathe to let Mimori out of their sight.

She wasn't even sure what she was looking for. Well, she wanted to know as much as possible – the time line, the players, the who's who in the world of Japanese civil unrest. She was also hoping for some little snippet about her parents. But all of this _stuff_ - half of it she didn't even understand – lists of numbers and coordinates, short notes heavy with acronyms. She'd ask Tachibana or Cougar to take a look at it, maybe they would be able to make more sense of it than she could.

Cougar was off making good on his threat to have a "nice chat" with the residents. Well, the ones that could be gathered quickly at least. She assumed Kazuma was with him (and Kanami with Kazuma) – Mimori prayed that he'd just _go with it_ and not _incite_ a riot. Ryuho was off helping Scheris paint, or something like that … Tachibana and Cammy were probably staring deep into each other's eyes somewhere. And she was here with hundreds of pages of exceedingly dull documentation she really didn't care about right now.

She put her head down on her arms, staring out the doors to the balcony. It was a nice night, maybe she'd make some coffee for herself and take the dogs for a long walk. She was a feeling generally out of sorts, and really wished things were just … just like they were last week, or four days ago, or _some_ semblance of normal. _That would be asking far, far too much_ Mimori thought to herself. She sat up and scraped the papers into messy stacks – she'd sort it all out in the morning.

Coffee was starting to sound like too much effort, so she corralled Hisui and Mouko, hoping _they'd_ think it was a nice night for a walk, too. Apparently they did, because they dragged her down the hall and towards the stairs. Mimori heard Scheris' laughter filtering through the door and scowled – _since when has painting been fun_? - then silently chastised herself. She was just feeling so cranky and discombobulated, worried, too …

She was almost at the front door when she heard Kanami's voice – "Mimori-san, where are you going?"

She reined in the dogs and turned around, looking up to the younger girl standing up a flight of stairs. She looked angelic, actually – the bare light of the stairwell was behind her head from this angle and Kanami was surrounded by a halo of light. "Going to take the dogs for a walk. Are you and Kazuma back already?"

Kanami shook her head. "Kaza-kun and Cougar-san haven't returned yet. I didn't go with Kaza-kun, he wanted me to stay here." She walked down the steps towards Mimori. "Can I come?"

"Of course – I can't promise I'll be good company, though, I have a lot on my mind tonight …." "I know, Mimori-san. It's OK, I just want to get out of the building today."

Mimori handed Hisui's leash to Kanami when they got outside. Kanami seemed to like having pets hanging around, and while Mouko could still be strong and obnoxious at times, Hisui was always a perfect lady. "I'm glad you like them," Mimori said, nodding down at the dogs. "I feel a bit bad Scheris is so uncomfortable around them, and everyone else seems to just think it's weird I brought my pets home with me."

Kanami looked up at her. "Ryuho likes them a lot."

"You think?"

Kanami nodded seriously. "He does, you can tell. I think he was just a little surprised you never mentioned them before you two went back to the Mainland."

Mimori considered the statement. "I don't know, I guess it sounds silly, but _I_ would have felt stupid talking about them to anyone. They're 'just' dogs, after all, or that's what most people think. And it's not like Ryuho and I were on particularly good terms until lately … and then there's the whole matter of Zetsui …"

Mimori wasn't entirely sure where they were wandering – she was letting Mouko lead the way. The sky was beautiful tonight, even though the moon was waning; the stars were bright enough to light the way on their own. "It's prettier in the country."

Mimori looked down at Kanami, who had followed her gaze. "Well … yes, but it's still prettier than it is on the Mainland. I missed the stars when I was back over there …."

"Mimori-san, do you think your mother is OK?"

The question caught Mimori off guard. "I – uh. Well, truthfully, I've been trying not to think of it. But yes, knowing Mama, she's fine. It's … it's worrisome that there's no word on either of my parents, but my mother promised me everything would be fine. I don't really want to believe otherwise, so until I have reason to … I'll just …" she looked back up at the sky.

"I think it will all be OK. My dreams have been strange lately, long and winding dreams. But there's always a good end. That's a good sign, isn't it?"

Mimori twisted her lips, trying to figure out something to say. She realized with a start that they had wandered right into the park. A lot of the lights lining the pathways were out, but Mimori hardly noticed under the bright night sky. "What's that?" Kanami pointed off to a grouping of people that were in a loose circle. Mimori stopped and listened to the very faint strains of music coming from that direction.

"How odd, I've never heard a lute on the Lost Ground, have you? Those are antique instruments. Must be the foreigners, shall we have a listen?" Mimori smiled at Kanami, who smiled back and looked back over at the group of men.

"Let's, I've never heard music like that before."

They settled under a tree near the little group, and Mimori was relieved that they could just sit quietly, soaking up music that was _so_ out of place on the Lost Ground. It was impossible to really _hide_ anything from Kanami, but she was afraid that if she started talking, she'd never shut up. It was obvious that everyone was concerned, and there wasn't any point in upsetting them further over issues none of them could control.

'_Don't worry,'_ she could hear her mother saying; the ghostly echo of that awful last phone call had been playing in her head all day.

_Best not to think of it_, Mimori told herself firmly.

Kanami lay back in the grass, her head resting on Hisui, while Mimori watched the men play off each other with interest. It was obvious that they improvised on tunes familiar to all of them, but it was fascinating to watch the looks they sent each other at certain points. How they knew when to back off in turn and let another player shine …. It was sad and lonely music they were playing now. Song after song of what Mimori could only imagine were terribly sad songs, and they made Mimori's heart ache.

Not like it hadn't been aching enough recently, but there was the good ache and the bad ache, Mimori mused. The music was making her feel heavy and light all at once, so she decided it was the good kind of ache – watching the little group of men, who she assumed must be aides or otherwise attached to the foreign entourages, laugh and sing and pass their bottle of whisky around, she couldn't help but smile. They seemed so carefree.

Mimori didn't know how long they'd been there when Kanami tugged at her sleeve. "Mimori-san, we should probably get back, I think Cougar-san and Kaza-kun should be home now."

Mimori was sorry to leave them behind, but Kanami was right … Kazuma had been more on edge than usual today, and she was sure having to chastise him like a little kid that morning hadn't helped matters …

"Mimori-san?" She looked down with a start at Kanami. "I liked the music, I wonder why people don't do that on the Lost Ground?"

"I think everyone has been too busy eeking out a living to worry about luxuries like music … well, maybe that's the difference, music is a luxury in some places. In others, it's just as essential as water or air. I guess it does seem funny, they must have very busy and serious jobs, and then they sit around and entertain each other with old music and antique instruments." Mimori looked at the darkened buildings they were passing. "You'd think they would be busy all the time …. I don't know, Kanami."

"That's one of your problems, Mimori-san, you work too hard. You can't work hard _all_ the time."

"No, I suppose not …." Mimori trailed off as they reached the apartment building, taking Hisui's little leash back from Kanami. _Still, it feels frivolous to have such fun when everyone else is working so hard_ …

"It's not frivolous, Mimori-san. Not at all, I don't think. Mmm, looks like we beat Kaza-kun and Cougar-san home." Kanami smiled up at her. "Thank you for the walk, I think I'm going to put dinner together … I'll see you in the morning. Don't worry so much, Mimori-san, it will all work out in the end ..."


End file.
